Harry Potter and the Guardians: Back Stories
by Gabriel4
Summary: A companion piece to Harry Potter and the Guardians. Contains scenes from the story in a POV other than Harry's. POV varies by chapter. Chapter eight: Cho in the aftermath of her disastrous, aborted first kiss with Harry.
1. Flight from Number Four: Celeste Thornby

**A/N: THIS IS A COMPANION PIECE TO MY STORY HARRY POTTER AND THE GUARDIANS.  IF YOU HAVE NOT READ IT, THIS WILL MAKE LITTLE SENSE TO YOU, BUT CONTINUE AND IT MIGHT WHET YOUR APPETITE FOR MORE.**

Now, for everyone else who has already read what exists of Harry Potter and the Guardians, I thought you might find this interesting.  I'm feeling a little drained after posting so many chapters of that story last week, so I took a break over the weekend by indulging in this piece.  It's been an idea for some time, but it's only just started to take form in print.  In all of J.K. Rowling's books, I can only think of one chapter where the point of view was not Harry's, and that was Chapter One of Sorcerer's Stone.  However, there are a lot of stories out there from other characters' POV, and I thought it might be interesting to write some vignettes from Guardians that aren't from Harry's POV.  For example: Professor Thornby taking Harry to Alverbrooke (this chapter), Sirius waiting for Harry to wake up, Lupin's thoughts as he works up the courage to ask Celeste on a date... you get the picture.  A lot of my reviewers from Guardians really seem to like Professor Thornby, so maybe this first chapter will be fun for them.  Enjoy, everyone, and let me know what you think!

One: Flight from Number Four (Celeste Thornby)

Celeste Thornby looked curiously around her as she walked up the path to Number Four, Privet Drive.  She had never lived with Muggles, and their dwellings were still something of a curiosity to her.  The houses in the neighborhood were prim and well kept, though they all looked strangely alike.  It was the kind of place where status mattered, and it was measured by how fine your roses were, how tender your roasts were, and what color you painted your shutters.  The sameness was all a bit unsettling.  Not for the first time, Celeste wondered what sort of people the Dursleys really were.

Celeste reached the front door and rang the bell.  She heard the sound of the lock scraping, and the door creaked open a few inches.  On the other side stood a tall, bony woman with an upturned nose and sharp eyes.  It was not a face that gave an impression of warmth.  Celeste could see red in that suspicious gaze.  This woman was tired and worried.

"May I help you?" the woman said nervously.

"Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Petunia Dursley?" said Celeste.

"You do," she replied, though her tone clearly said that it was anything but a pleasure.

"My name is Celeste Thornby.  I am professor of History of Magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and –"

Petunia's eyes went wide.  She tried to slam the door, but Celeste raised her hand just in time.  The door stopped in its path, quivering, though there was nothing visibly blocking its way.  Celeste waved her hand and the door swung inward.  White-faced, Petunia backed into the hallway.

Celeste took one step into the house and the other woman screamed in terror.  Celeste frowned.  Dumbledore had told her that the Dursleys could be difficult at times, but he had never indicated that this sort of thing would happen.  "Albus Dumbledore has sent me to –"

"We didn't mean to!" Petunia shrieked.  "I didn't know what to do!"

A large, beefy man came thundering around the corner followed closely by the roundest boy Celeste had ever seen.  _This will be Vernon Dursley and Dudley,_ thought Celeste.

"Petunia, what's –"  The man cut off, staring at Celeste.  His eyes lit on her pocket from which the handle of her wand was visibly protruding, and his face went as white as his wife's.

Celeste frowned.  She had no idea what she'd done to deserve this sort of chilly reception.  It was less than thirty seconds into their first meeting and she was already disposed to dislike the Dursleys, but she kept her tone mild and put none of her feelings into her words.  "We have heard that Harry is ill," she said.

"Ill?" said Vernon, making a poor attempt at seeming surprised.  "However did you hear such a thing?  Harry's fine, of course.  Never seen him in better health!"

He stepped forward, forcing Celeste to back up toward the open door.  Celeste narrowed her eyes.  There was something going on here that she didn't understand, and she didn't like it when she didn't understand.  "I am very glad to hear it," she said calmly.  "Well, I would hate to have come all this way for nothing.  Since he is well, then you won't mind if I stop by his room and say hello.  I daresay he'd be glad to see a face from Hogwarts."  She refrained from mentioning that she had never met Harry in her life.

"He... uh... he's not here," said Vernon.  His wife nodded so hard that Celeste thought her head might snap off her neck.

"Not here?" Celeste said suspiciously.

"Ah, no.  He's off visiting his Aunt Marge," said Vernon.  He took a large handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his brow.  "Harry's quite her favorite nephew.  They just can't get enough of each other."

Celeste peered up the stairs.  Was that a moan she had just heard?

"That's the cat," Vernon said hastily.  "Not feeling well.  Been coughing up furballs all day."

"The cat," Celeste said flatly.

"Yes."  Vernon laughed nervously.

A thud sounded through the ceiling.  "Just how big is this cat?" said Celeste.  She pushed past the Dursleys and began to climb the stairs.  Something was very wrong here, and Harry was upstairs – she was sure of it.

The Dursleys hurried after her.  Petunia had found her voice again and joined her husband in listing reasons why Celeste shouldn't wander around upstairs.  Celeste ignored them.  She reached the second floor and headed for the only closed door, which was at the very end of the hall.  There was no light coming from beneath it.

"You don't want to go in there!" Vernon said in a last-ditch attempt to dissuade her.  She reached for the handle, and Vernon's voice took on a desperate edge.  "Don't open that door, or I'll –"

Celeste rounded on them, wand in hand.  "You'll what?"

The Dursleys backed up.  Celeste smiled inwardly; that particular tone never failed to do the trick.  She turned back around and opened the door to darkness.  "_Lumos_."  An overhead light bulb flared to life, revealing a black-haired young man in the bed by the wall.  He was tossing and muttering incoherently as he tried to throw off his blankets.  A stool lay on the floor beside the bed, which he had apparently knocked over in his flailing.

In an instant Celeste was by his side.  She brushed damp strands of hair away from the boy's forehead and found herself staring at the famous lightning bolt scar.  She placed the back of her hand against the scar and quickly drew it away.

"He's burning up!" she exclaimed.

"Milk," he murmured.

Celeste looked down at Harry and gasped at what she saw.  His eyes were open, and they looked as if they had been coated in silver.  A moment later the silver swirled away, replaced by the brightest green she had ever seen.

Celeste's heart was beating very quickly.  She knew what this meant; she had seen a victim of Dragonthistle Potion before.  "When did this happen?" she asked sharply.

She was surprised when Petunia answered with resignation in her voice.  "I found him like this this morning," she said.  "He went down into the kitchen in the middle of the night and drank half the milk.  He's been asking for it all day."

"Milk," the boy moaned again.

"Ssshhh," Celeste said, smoothing his hair.  "_Accio_ milk!  _Accio _glass!"  Moments later a carton and a glass came sailing through the door.  The Dursleys flattened themselves against the wall in an effort to get as far from the enchanted objects as possible.  Celeste poured the milk into the glass, pulled Harry to a sitting position, and put the glass to his lips.  He drank and drank as if he were dying of thirst.

"He has been poisoned," she said, softening her tone.  "You know how this happened, or you would not have lied to me."

Vernon and Petunia exchanged an anguished glance.

"Tell me," Celeste ordered.  "If he dies, there will be hell to pay."

The Dursleys' eyes widened at the mention of death.  "The Mortisons gave it to us!" Petunia exclaimed.  "Please, we didn't know it was poisonous!  They said it was just a home remedy!"

"A _what_?" Celeste exclaimed, and the Dursleys cringed.  She shook her head; now was not the time to frighten them to death.  She needed answers.

"What did the Mortisons look like?" she asked.

"Ah, John... he was tall and thick, with dark hair and a long scar above his left eye –"

That was all Celeste needed to hear.  She swore aloud, and the Dursleys jumped.  "Those were the Blakes!  Death Eaters!  They want Harry dead more than anything in the world!"

"They... what?  Why would anyone want to kill Harry?" whispered Petunia.

Celeste stared at the cowering family.  _They didn't know!_  She couldn't believe it!  "Do you mean to tell me," she said, "that you know nothing of Voldemort, of the Death Eaters, of anything?"  She was shouting now; she couldn't help herself.

Vernon opened his mouth, a look of complete confusion on his face.  Celeste waved her hand.  "Not now.  I don't care what you know or don't know.  I have to take Harry away from here.  The Death Eaters will be upon us at any moment."

"What?" shrieked Petunia.

"Is this his trunk?"

"Yes –" Vernon began.

"Are all his possessions in this room?"

"His _broomstick's_ locked in the closet downstairs," said Dudley.  It was the first word he'd spoken since Celeste had first seen him.

"Get it," she snapped, and Dudley fairly flew from the room.

"_Accio_ possessions!" she shouted, waving her wand around.  It was a bit of a vague command, but objects from here and there soared through the air and onto the bed.  Celeste quickly rummaged through Harry's trunk.  Sirius had said something about... There!  She pulled a silvery Invisibility Cloak from the books and bottles.  She waved her wand again, and the collected objects on the bed flew into the trunk.  Celeste slammed the lid shut and locked it.

Dudley returned with the broomstick, huffing and puffing from the exertion.  "Thank you," said Celeste, taking it from him.  Just as Sirius had said, it was a limited edition Firebolt.  She felt a thrill just touching the handle, but there was no time to admire it just then.

She turned to address the Dursleys.  "You three have to leave the house, and leave _now._  Stay at a hotel, stay with a friend, but do not come back here until at least three days have passed."

"What?" said Vernon.  "But we've not packed, we've nothing to change into –"

"They are coming to finish him off, do you understand?" Celeste shouted.  "Do you want to be here to face their wrath when they discover that Harry is gone?  If you value your lives, then go!  Now!"

The Dursleys ran from the room.  A minute later Celeste heard the sound of a motor starting.  _Good,_ she thought.  _That will be three fewer casualties today._

"_Mobilicorpus_!"  Harry floated up off the bed, shivering and muttering feverishly.  Celeste wrapped the blanket around him.  "_Reducto_!"  The trunk shrank to the size of a small box, which Celeste put in her pocket.  That just left the snowy owl in the cage on the table.  Celeste was unwilling to shrink that for fear she would harm the bird, but there was no way she could fit Harry, herself, and the cage under the Invisibility Cloak at one time.  Both ends of the broomstick would be sticking out as it was.

"Your master needs you to be silent tonight," Celeste said, picking up the cage and staring into the owl's amber eyes.  "Can you do that?"  The owl blinked slowly and swiveled its head.  _Let's hope that's a yes,_ she thought.

Celeste sat astride the Firebolt, attached the cage to its tail, and pulled Harry on in front of her.  She threw the Invisibility Cloak about her shoulders and snugged it securely over Harry.  She had been right; the cage and both ends of the broomstick were visible, but it was the best she could do.

Celeste pulled out her wand and pointed it at the wall.  "_Effringo_!"  A tiny hole appeared in the drywall and slowly began to rotate, growing larger and larger until it was big enough for them all to fit through.  It was now very dark outside, and cloudy; there was no moon.  _So much the better,_ Celeste thought.  _May fate smile upon us!  _"Hang in there, Harry," she whispered, and she leaned forward.

The Firebolt soared out the hole and into the cool night.  Celeste looked behind her and raised her wand, intent on sealing the wall again.  She barely kept herself from gasping aloud; they were not a moment too soon.  Nearly a dozen hooded and cloaked figures were converging at the front of the house.  Celeste dropped the Firebolt as close to the ground as she dared, leaving the wall the way it was.  It would now be obvious that Harry had left by broomstick, but casting a spell with the Death Eaters so close by would be suicidal.  She cautiously urged the Firebolt forward, skimming away through the neighborhood's small backyards.  The night was absolutely silent; Celeste scarcely dared to breathe.

She lurched at the first crack of thunder behind her as the Death Eaters assaulted the wards.  The snowy owl fluttered in her cage, but she made no sound.  Harry seemed to be asleep; he didn't even flinch.  Celeste urged the broomstick on a little faster as she put some distance between Harry and the enemy.

The booms and crackles were abruptly cut off, and a scream of rage ripped through the air.  Their flight had been discovered.  Celeste leaned forward and the Firebolt took off as fast as she could make it go.  Behind them, the sky was suddenly filled with shapeless figures on broomsticks, swarming around the house like angry bees around a hive.  Celeste still kept Harry's broomstick close to the ground; the Death Eaters were looking for them up in the air.  _Just a little further..._

A Stunning spell shot past Celeste's left ear.  She risked a glance behind her and saw that the Death Eaters were firing them every which way, trying to hit whoever was fleeing.  Celeste leaned forward as far as she could without crushing Harry in order to present as small a target as possible.

After a few tense moments the Stunners stopped, and Celeste breathed a little easier.  But now she was faced with another problem: where to go.  She had been planning to make for Hogwarts, but that would surely be the first place the Death Eaters would look.  There was no place else that Harry knew.

_Alverbrooke.  _It was the only option.  There was no one else there; Ardoc, Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore were all gone.  Still, they would return soon; she could send to Hogwarts for the antidote she needed, and all would be well.  Celeste changed course subtly and flew off across the countryside.

They flew for a full hour before the house finally came into view.  All was dark when Celeste landed gently at the front steps.  She pushed open the heavy wooden door and waved her wand, and the front hall was suddenly ablaze with candlelight.

"Welcome home, miss!" said a high, squeaky voice.  Celeste looked down to see Pip, the head house-elf, standing in the hallway with the others behind him.  "Would you like a nice cup of hot tea, or some... Oh, my!"  All the house-elves gasped in unison when they saw Harry, who was still asleep on the broomstick.

"This is Harry Potter," said Celeste, and the house-elves chattered excitedly.  "He is very sick.  I need to look after him until Dumbledore comes from Hogwarts, and I am going to need your help."

The house-elves exchanged troubled glances.  Pip began to wring his hands.  "Hogwarts, mistress?" he said uncertainly.

"Has something happened?" Celeste said quickly.

"We have had word," said Pip.  "Hogsmeade is under attack, and Hogwarts may be next."

Celeste's heart sank.  No one would be coming from Hogwarts just yet, and she doubted that any of the house's other occupants would be returning either.  But she could still owl Severus about the antidote she needed.  "Very well," she said aloud.  "It will be up to us, then."  The house-elves straightened up.  If there was anything they loved more than making humans happy, it was a challenge.  "Take Harry upstairs.  Wash him and dress him in some clean sleeping clothes, and put him in bed.  The green room, I think.  I have an owl to send."

"Right away," said Pip, and all the house-elves bowed before swarming around Harry.  Celeste watched for a moment as they gently floated him up the stairs.  There was no need to tell them to be careful; Dumbledore's house-elves were a very capable lot.

Celeste quickly made her way to her writing desk where she dashed off a letter to Severus, explaining the situation and her need for the antidote.  Rather than go hunting for her own owl, she opted to use the one that was still sitting in the hallway.  Celeste opened Harry's owl's cage and pulled the snowy bird out.  "Find Severus Snape," she said as she tied the letter to its leg.  "Your master's life depends on you."  The bird hooted softly.  "Godspeed."  She opened a window, and the owl soared away.

Celeste lost no time in heading for the library.  With Hogsmeade under assault she had no guarantee that Severus would even receive her owl, so it was time to see if she could make the antidote herself.  She pulled a heavy leather-bound book from one of the shelves and set it on a nearby bookstand.  She opened it to the D's and began scanning.

Dragon's blood... dragon heart... dragonstring... Dragonthistle Potion.  Celeste ran her finger down the page to "Antidote" and read the list of ingredients.

_Powdered dragon fang... six strands of hair from a year-old harpy... lily nectar... phoenix tears..._

Celeste let her head fall into her hand.  There were no phoenix tears at Alverbrooke.  She scanned the list further and realized that it was useless; the antidote had to be stirred with a unicorn's horn to be fully cured, and she didn't have one of those either.  Since no one in their right mind would kill a unicorn, they were almost beyond price.  Dumbledore did own a unicorn's horn, but it was at Hogwarts with Severus.  The Potions Master would certainly have access to phoenix tears as well through the headmaster's pet bird Fawkes.  There was nothing for it.  She needed Severus' help.

Celeste wasn't giving up yet, though.  She couldn't make the antidote for Dragonthistle Potion, but there were other antidotes in the house, and restoratives as well.  Perhaps she could even make some of the simpler antidotes while Harry slept.

Celeste climbed the stairs up to the third floor and entered the green room.  Harry had been tucked into bed, and she could see that he was wearing fresh pajamas.  The house-elves stopped bustling around when she entered and waited for more instructions.

"Excellent work," she said.  "Thank you."  The house-elves beamed at her.  "There is much to do yet, though.  Pip, we are going to need milk, and lots of it.  We also need to set up a workbench in this room – I am going to make some potions while I watch Harry.  I need someone to fetch all the antidotes and restoratives that we have in the house, and then I'm going to need some supper."

"Right away," Pip squeaked.  The house-elves bowed disappeared with loud cracks.

Celeste crossed the room to stand by Harry's side.  She carefully felt his forehead again; he was still on fire.  She dipped a washcloth in a nearby water pitcher, wrung it out, and carefully placed it on top of Harry's scar.

His eyes opened, and he looked at her.  "Harry," she said gravely, staring into those strange, silver eyes.  "Harry, can you hear me?"  His eyes drifted closed again, and she sighed.  It was going to be a long night.

**********

Celeste put a hand to the small of her back and stretched, feeling little pops all up and down her spine.  It was early morning on the third day since she had brought Harry to Alverbrooke.  She was incredibly tired, not having slept since returning home.  Bottles of Stamina Potion lay drained on the workbench across the room.  The cauldron sat cold and empty.  Celeste had drunk her last Stamina Potion as the stars had just begun to fade, and she no longer trusted herself to be able to make a brew of any kind; she could barely see straight anymore.  Unfortunately, the house-elves could not help her there.  They were skilled in many areas but were hopeless when it came to potions.

Celeste knew that she and Harry were both reaching their limits.  She could merely sleep until her strength was replenished, but if Harry drifted away, he would never return.  He had long since stopped muttering in his sleep and asking for milk.  If his eyes opened, they were always silver; the green seemed permanently gone.  Celeste stretched out a hand to his head and he flinched away with a soft moan.

"Mistress," said Pip.  Celeste wearily turned her head, knowing what he was going to say.  She was losing hope that anyone was going to come before it was too late, and it very soon would be.

"Anything?" she said.

"No," said Pip, looking at the floor.  His ears drooped, and Celeste knew that he thought he had failed her.

She had used every one of the three owls in the house – including Harry's – until they could no longer make the trip for sheer exhaustion.  Harry's owl had held out the longest, but even she had had to sleep after two days of flying.  Celeste had sent messages the only other way she could think, by scribbling notes and sticking her hand out of Dumbledore's and Severus' fireplaces via the Floo network.  She had never dared leave Harry's side; he was prone to taking sudden turns for the worse when she least expected it.  Every time he'd begun to slip she had given him one more of the antidotes and as much milk as he would take.  Now there were no more antidotes to administer and she could not make any more.  Despite her best efforts, time had run out.  It was time to do what she had been dreading since Harry's owl had first come back with no response.

"Would you let me have five minutes alone, please?" she said to Pip.  "But return after that with a glass of water, if you will."

Pip bowed solemnly and vanished.

Celeste walked slowly to one of the open windows and stared out at the grounds.  It was a beautiful morning, and pale golden sunshine was everywhere.  The oak tree next to the window whispered as a breeze drifted past.  The light filtering through the branches made the green leaves look almost translucent.  A bird trilled from its perch somewhere in the tree, welcoming the new day.

How ironic it seemed that on this morning full of life, a young man just on the edge of adulthood was slipping away before her eyes!  In the past two days Celeste had silently cursed fate, the Dursleys, the Blakes... but now she was simply resigned.  She had done almost all she could for Harry, and now she had to do the rest.  _And after that I would pray... if I were conscious to do so,_ she thought.

Celeste returned to Harry's bedside and took his cold, clammy hand.  It seemed strange that his hands should be so cool while his forehead yet smoldered, but she was no Healer and had no explanation.  He was very still this morning, having used up all of his strength tossing and turning for hours.  Not for the first time, Celeste felt that she had failed him.  Dumbledore had entrusted Harry's well being to her and yet her best had not been enough.

"I am so very sorry," she said softly, though he couldn't hear a word she said.  _He'll never even know that I existed,_ she thought bitterly.

There was a loud crack as Pip reappeared with a glass of water.  Celeste took it with thanks and downed the contents.  As she handed the glass back to the house-elf she said, "You have done very well these past few days, Pip.  All of you have.  I couldn't have made it this far without your help."

Pip beamed from ear to ear.  "It is our pleasure to serve, miss."

Celeste was suddenly dizzy.  She gripped one of the bedposts to steady herself.  It was time to get it over with, or she would collapse before she got the chance.

"When Dumbledore gets here, bring him to Harry immediately," she heard herself say.  "I am afraid I won't be awake to receive him."

"Pip does not understand," said the house-elf uncertainly.

"You will in a moment," she said.  "You are in charge from now on, Pip.  Do everything you can for Harry."

"Pip still does not understand."

Celeste drew her wand and leaned over Harry, placing one hand flat against his chest.

_"Donum Vitae!"_

The world turned blue.  She didn't have much energy left to give and held on for a few moments only, but those moments felt like years.  Voices sang to her weary soul, tempting her to hang on a little longer... just a little longer...

Celeste wasn't awake to hear Pip's squeak of shock as she fell.


	2. The Vigil: Sirius Black

**A/N: Here's another vignette.  This is wonderful therapy for my otherwise drained brain!  Okay, I know I'm probably going to get some reviews discussing how I haven't covered every possibility, that Professor Thornby didn't have to stay awake with Harry until she collapsed because this or this could have happened, but I'm aware that I may have missed something.  It was hard for me to figure out how to do this and I don't think the circumstances are airtight, but I feel I've tied up the loose ends well enough to post.**

PhoenixTearsp322: Yes, I know that Professor Thornby doesn't seem very Slytherin-ish.  You're not the only person to say so.  You've hit the right note, though, in that she used to be somewhat different and has changed.  She's got something of a past and somehow I never got around to making a point of that, so Harry's just going to have to be surprised with everyone else when it comes out.  (Don't worry, she was never a Death Eater or anything like that.)  I didn't have her use the "Disillusionment Charm" because it didn't exist when started this story a year and a half ago.  Phoenix was not published at the time and I had the details all planned out in my head.  Even if I had wanted to incorporate the charm, though, I wouldn't have remembered it.  I didn't even think of it until you mentioned it.  I have read Phoenix twice, but it was my least favorite book (again, due to Whiny Harry).  As to the number of house-elves, I figure there would be between six and eight.  The exact number wasn't crucial to the story.  A lot more would be funny… pop, pop, pop… but that would be too many for one house.

Pepperjack: Long time, no see!  It's great to have a review from you again.  Lucky you – Sirius IS next.  And I changed the name from "In Another's Eyes" to "Back Stories" because of the wording you used in your review.  I like "Back Stories" a lot better.  I like your name too, by the way.  I love pepperjack cheese.  Mmm.

totallystellar: The force-feeding scene _is here, though it's not so funny when it's actually happening because Sirius is so distressed at the time.  Poor guy._

Danae: I'm glad you have something else to look forward to because I'm so fried on the other story right now.  I'm hoping that by the time the weekend rolls around I'll be rested up and ready to go again.

Two: The Vigil (Sirius Black)

"It's over."

"It is?"  Sirius sat up from where he had been leaning against a tree.  "Why?"

"Dumbledore doesn't know why the Death Eaters decided to leave, but they have gone," said Lupin.  He shook his head.  "I don't understand.  They might yet have destroyed Hogsmeade entirely.  Why would they give up now?"

Sirius was thinking the same thing.  There had been dozens and dozens of Death Eaters in the village; he would never have thought that Voldemort could recruit so many people so fast.  _And this is only the beginning, _he thought grimly.

Lupin peered around the tree trunk to look at the village, several hundred feet away.  Sirius had been forced to hide in the stand of trees when he wasn't out scouting as a canine, and even then his coat had had to be changed from black to brown.  There were too many people who might recognize his Animagus form.  Still, Sirius was glad to be helping in any way at all, and he was away from Alverbrooke for the first time in a long while.  When the news of the attack reached them, Lupin and Bellaton had tried to convince Sirius not to come, but he had insisted.

"Are they gone?" asked Sirius.

"Nearly," said Lupin.  Sirius leaned over himself to see the Ministry Aurors heading away from Dumbledore and back into the village.  "Stay put, you fool!" said Lupin.  "If you can see them, they can see you.  All they have to do is look this way."

"That idiot Fudge," Sirius said darkly.  "One whole day he waffled before sending Aurors, and he still won't admit that the attackers were Death Eaters.  Does he need to see Voldemort with his own eyes before he'll believe?"

"Probably," Lupin said dryly.  "Oh, this is interesting – Severus is coming up to Dumbledore.  It looks like he's running."

"That coward," Sirius said derisively.  "The rest of us spend three days in the mud trying to save Hogsmeade, and where has he been?  Back at the nice, dry castle."

"I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with you on that point," said Lupin, squinting at the faraway figures.  "Severus is many unpleasant things, but he's no coward.  If he's been at Hogwarts the whole time, he must have had good reason."

"Yes, well, I'd love to hear it," said Sirius.  "Even Dumbledore doesn't know why he stayed."  It was true; Snape had never answered the headmaster's summons to Hogsmeade though the other resident professors had.  No word had been received from him since.

"Ardoc is motioning us to come back," said Lupin.  "I think we'd better hurry – he seems anxious or excited or something."

"I think we're about to hear why Severus has been in hiding," said Sirius, and he transformed back into a dog.  Lupin turned his coat brown, and the two of them left the stand of trees for the edge of the village.

"Hurry up, you fools!" Snape barked as they came trotting up.  Sirius transformed back into himself and opened his mouth, intent on giving Snape the rough side of his tongue, but the Potions Master cut him off.  "Your godson is dying, Black.  We have to leave _now."_

Sirius felt as if he had been hit between the eyes.  "_What?"_

"Apparate to Alverbrooke," Dumbledore said crisply.  "The breakfast room."  Sirius opened his mouth to demand more information, but Dumbledore cut him off.  "Not now, Sirius!  Just do as I say!"  He vanished, and the others followed suit.

They all appeared in the breakfast room, and Dumbledore immediately began to shout.  "Celeste?  Celeste!"  They quickly made their way toward the main staircase, calling her name the whole way.  Sirius' mind was racing frantically.  _Dying?  I thought he was only sick!_

There was a crack, and a house-elf appeared in front of them.  There were tears streaming from its tennis ball eyes.

"Pip!" Dumbledore exclaimed.  "Where are they?"

"Upstairs," the elf sobbed.  "The green room.  Mistress will not wake up; Pip does not know what to do!"

But the wizards had not stayed to listen.  One and all they were racing up the stairs to the third floor.

Snape burst through the doorway first, followed closely by Sirius, Dumbledore, Lupin, and Bellaton.  Sirius froze when he saw the scene before him, and the others had to push him out of the way to get by.  He barely noticed.  Harry was lying in a bed, still and pale.  On the floor next to him lay Celeste Thornby.  Her chest was rising and falling with the even rhythm of sleep, but Sirius could see no such movement in his godson.  For one terrible moment, he was sure that they were too late.

Snape and Dumbledore bent over Harry, pushing open his eyelids and feeling for a pulse.  Sirius remained in the doorway as still as stone, watching.  Snape exhaled slowly.  "He's alive, and not nearly as far gone as she said he was," he said quietly, glancing down at the woman on the floor.  "We are in plenty of time."

The adults let out a collective sigh.  Lupin shoved a chair beneath Sirius just as his legs gave way.  

Snape pulled a vial of white liquid from his robes and uncorked it.  "We must get him to take this, though."

"Unless you have a syringe, I don't see how you'll manage that," said Bellaton.

"A what?" said Snape in scandalized tones.  "Do you take me for one of those Muggle butchers they have the nerve to call a _doctor?  No, Potter will be swallowing the antidote."_

Sirius' head jerked up.  "Antidote?!"

"Why, because you said so?" said Bellaton, barking a short laugh.

"That usually does the trick," said Snape, and he gave Bellaton a sardonic smile.

"Antidote?" Sirius repeated forcefully.  "What exactly is the nature of Harry's illness?"

A scowl returned to Snape's face.  "Be silent, Black," he spat.  "The longer you distract me, the longer the poison eats away at him."

Sirius was so shocked that he didn't reply.  _Poisoned?  His head swam, and he was suddenly very glad to be sitting down._

"Allow me," said Dumbledore.  He gently pried Harry's mouth open.  Snape poured the liquid in and Dumbledore shut Harry's mouth.  They waited for a few moments, but he didn't swallow.

"Foolish boy doesn't know what's good for him," Snape said.  There had been no heat in his voice, but Sirius glared at him anyway.

"Now what?" Lupin said worriedly.

Dumbledore calmly reached down and pinched Harry's nostrils shut.  A moment or two went by, and then Harry reflexively swallowed.  A fit of weak coughing followed.

"That should do it," said Snape.  "Give him a few days and he will be back to his insufferable self."

Sirius snarled when he heard his godson insulted.  "It _would be like you to kick him while he's down."_

The look Snape shot back was so superior that Sirius ground his teeth.  "Can't you tell the difference between when I'm truly being insulting and when I'm not?  No wonder you've been a blister on my heel for the past quarter-century."

"Stop it, both of you."  Dumbledore spoke softly, but it was all he needed to say.  Snape crossed his arms in the most supercilious manner and turned away.  Sirius ignored him.  He wanted answers, and he wanted them _now._

"Harry's not the only one here who needs help!" Bellaton said sharply.  He was shaking Celeste rather roughly in an attempt to rouse her, but to no avail.  He carefully scooped her up into his arms and stood up.

"Let me see," said Snape.  He peered into her face and put a finger against her neck.  "She is deeply asleep.  I expect she will wake when she is ready."

"Thank you," said Bellaton, and he carried her out of the room.

"Are you sure she's only sleeping?" said Lupin as Bellaton left.

Snape gave him a withering look.  "Use your eyes," he said, waving his hand toward the workbench on the other side of the room.  "She has been looking after Potter for three days."  He picked up an empty bottle from the nightstand and sniffed it.  "Stamina Potion.  I'll wager she's not slept since she arrived.  And neither have I," he added.

Bellaton returned alone.  "The house-elves are putting her to bed."

"How did all this happen?" said Lupin calmly.

Snape looked at Dumbledore.  "Please, tell the tale," said the headmaster.  "You are the only one here who knows it in full."

"Very well," said Snape.  He drew himself up, and Sirius realized that he was going to enjoy being the center of attention.  "It starts when we received the summons to Hogsmeade at the castle.  Perhaps some of you are thinking that I was too cowardly to join in the defense of the village, but that is most certainly untrue."  His black eyes glittered at Sirius.  Sirius was anxious to hear the story, but he couldn't resist baiting Snape.  He smiled sweetly back, and Snape scowled.  "I received an owl at almost the same moment.  It was from Celeste, saying that Potter had been poisoned with Dragonthistle Potion and she could not make the antidote herself."

"Dragonthistle?" Lupin murmured.  "Harry should be dead."

"An astute observation," Snape said acidly.

"Who poisoned him?" said Sirius, his voice icy cold.

"His fool relatives," said Snape.

"What?" roared Sirius, leaping to his feet.

"Temper, temper," clucked Snape.  "You always were rather hot under the collar."

"Easy, Sirius," said Dumbledore, though his aged face was troubled.  "I have a feeling that we have not heard all."

"No, you haven't," said Snape.  "According to the letter, the whole thing was nothing more than an unfortunate accident."

"Accident?" hissed Sirius.  "The Dursleys have never been kind to Harry.  He doesn't complain, but I know he's unhappy there.  I'm sure this was an _accident_ that they were all too willing to let happen!  I should wring all their necks!"

"Please do," Snape sneered, "because then we can send you back to Azkaban for good."

Sirius rounded on him, but Dumbledore cut them off.  "Enough!" the headmaster shouted.  "If this baiting does not stop this instant, we will wait for Celeste to wake up and tell the rest of the story!"

"As you say," Snape said smoothly.  Sirius nodded reluctantly, but he still looked daggers at the Potions Master.

"As I was saying, Potter's relations gave him the poison under the false notion that it was some kind of 'home remedy'."

"A remedy for what?" mused Bellaton.

"You will have to ask Potter," said Snape.  "They got it from their friendly neighborhood Death Eaters whom we all know as Fergus and Ludmilla Blake.  Don't waste your breath," he said when Sirius opened his mouth.  "They'll be long gone by now."

Dumbledore shook his head wearily.  "They couldn't get within fifty yards of the house due to the wards, so they used the Dursleys as their go-between.  Clever."

"There wasn't much in the letter after that," said Snape.  "As soon as I finished reading I started the potion.  The headmaster never answered my owl, so I came to Hogsmeade as soon as it was done."

"I never received your owl," said Dumbledore.  "Did it return?"

"I have no idea," said Snape.

"Why didn't you come to Alverbrooke to make the potion?" said Lupin.

Snape's lip curled.  "I didn't think of that until it was too late," he admitted.  "This is one of the most complicated antidotes of all.  I couldn't just pack up and move once I was in the middle of it.  This took me _three sleepless nights to finish."_

"I wonder why Celeste never tried to contact us," Sirius said.

"I am sure she did," said Dumbledore, "but the chain broke somewhere along the way.  Whether the owls were killed or the letters were lost in the battle, we never got the news."

"Still, all's well that ends well," said Bellaton.

"There is something here that does not make sense," said Snape.  "I went to your quarters, headmaster, to get the unicorn's horn and finish the potion.  I found a small pile of notes on the floor.  Apparently Celeste had tossed them through the Floo network.  I looked at a few on the top, and she made it sound as if Potter were at death's door.  Yet when we arrived he was not nearly so far gone."

"And he could not have overcome the poison on his own," said Bellaton.

"Potter does love to save the day, but he could not save himself here," said Snape.  "No, I think that _she did something other than give him all these antidotes here, and we won't know what it was until she wakes up."_

Sirius stood up and began to pace around the room.  He was full of inner turmoil; part of him raged against the Dursleys, another wanted to weep for sheer relief, and the rest contemplated Snape.  Sirius was sure of one thing – if Snape had not spent all that time on the antidote, Harry would be in a very dire position right now, whatever Celeste had done.  It was time to swallow his pride and give credit where credit was due.

"Severus," he said.  "Thank you."

Snape raised one dark eyebrow.  "I didn't do this for you."

"I know," Sirius said evenly.

"Yes, well, you'll want to save the rest of your thanks for our sleeping professor.  From what her notes said, we might not have come in time had she not done… whatever she did.  Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I have earned the right to sleep myself."

"Sweet dreams," said Lupin with a smirk.

Snape narrowed his eyes.  "As long as they don't include you, Potter, or Black, they will be.  Anything else will be most welcome."

"There, now," said Dumbledore after Snape had gone.  "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It galls me to be beholden to that greasy git," Sirius said bitterly.  "But since he helped Harry, I'd kiss him if he asked me to."

Lupin laughed softly.  "I'd say there's little chance of that."

"Thank God," said Sirius.  "Now Celeste, on the other hand… I wonder if _she_ will require a thank-you kiss."

"From a ne'er-do-well like you?" laughed Bellaton.

"My rebellious nature is one of my most endearing qualities," Sirius said lightly, and the others chuckled.  He grew serious once again as he stood up and walked over to Harry's side.  "He doesn't look any different," he said.  "How can we be sure that the antidote worked?"

"Severus is a master craftsman," Dumbledore said wryly.  "There are few that can rival his skill."

"He's too pale," Sirius complained.

"Are you referring to Harry or to Severus?" Lupin joked.

Dumbledore rose from his chair with a very stern expression.  "This goes for both of you," he said, taking in Sirius and Lupin with his eyes.  "You had better learn to cooperate with Severus.  One of these days you will be bickering when you should be working together, and the result will be disastrous."

"How can you set us down and spare _him_?" said Sirius, feeling his anger rise once again.

"I will speak with him when he has slept," Dumbledore said evenly.  "Now, let us hear no more of this pointless feud.  One of your foursome is long dead, another has become a Death Eater, you are a convicted murderer, and your life runs on the lunar cycle," he said, looking at Sirius and Lupin in turn.  "You both have more important things to worry about than whether or not you have the last word."  Sirius and Lupin nodded, and the headmaster seemed satisfied.  "I suggest you all get some rest," he said.  "Some of us will have to return to Hogsmeade to help with the rebuilding."

Dumbledore and Bellaton left the room, but Sirius and Lupin lingered.  Sirius pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat.  Lupin hovered over his shoulder, looking down at the sleeping teenager.

"He looks so much like James it's almost scary," said Lupin.

"But he doesn't act like him at all, except on the Quidditch field," said Sirius.

"I expect we have the Dursleys to thank for that," said Lupin.  "You'd think he'd have turned out badly after all that neglect, but he didn't."

Lupin's words were like a dagger in Sirius' heart.  _Neglect.  All Harry's years without love could be traced back to one bad choice.  If only he had remained Lily and James' secret keeper.  Why had he ever suggested Wormtail?  Why hadn't he been able to see Peter for what he was?_

"He hid it well," said Lupin, and Sirius realized that he'd been speaking aloud.  "We've been over this before, Padfoot.  There was no way you could have known.  You were doing what you thought was best.  The guilt lies with Wormtail and no one else."

"Harry may have turned out well, but I wish Dumbledore had never sent him to live with the Dursleys," said Sirius.  "I know he had his reasons, but to have a family that doesn't want you… you might as well have no family at all."

Lupin smiled sadly.  "More than once I wished I could have taken him myself, but how could an impoverished werewolf raise a child?"

"I didn't know that," said Sirius, twisting to look up at his friend.  "He would have liked that.  You would make a good father."

"I wouldn't have been his father.  I could never have replaced James."

"Of course not, but maybe you'll have children of your own someday."

"Let's not kid ourselves," said Lupin.  "I will never have children because no sane person would ever marry a werewolf."

"Then we'll just have to find a nice, insane lady for you, Moony," Sirius teased.  "But if we can't, we'll just end up a pair of old bachelors together.  I don't think the girls go for escaped convicts any more than they go for werewolves."

"Maybe if we found two insane ladies?" Lupin suggested.

Sirius laughed bitterly.  "Do you ever look at your life and wonder how it turned out to be such a mess?" he said.

"Our lives aren't over yet, Padfoot," Lupin said quietly.

"No," said Sirius.  "But when I was Harry's age, I never imagined the things that would happen to me.  One of my closest friends was murdered, another betrayed me, and I spent twelve years in Azkaban."  He reached over and took Harry's cold hand.  "By God, I won't let anything like that happen to him."

"There are a few obstacles in our way," said Lupin.

"Then we'll overcome them," Sirius said firmly, "starting with the Dursleys.  I don't care what Dumbledore says; Harry won't be going back there ever again."

"This time I think he might not disagree with you," said Lupin.

Sirius squeezed Harry's hand, and Harry's fingers twitched.  "Hah!  Did you see that?" Sirius exclaimed joyfully.

"I did," said Lupin, smiling.

"I suppose the old bat _does_ know what he's doing."

"Just don't let Dumbledore hear you saying things like that."

Sirius gave his friend a feral grin.  "I'll do my best to hold my tongue in front of Snape, but I fully intend to go on slaughtering him in private."

Lupin attempted to stifle a yawn behind his hand.  "If you're staying, Padfoot, then I'm going to get some sleep," he said.

"I'm staying until Harry wakes up," said Sirius.

"That could be a while."

"So be it.  Sleep well."

Lupin left, and Sirius turned his full attention back to his godson.  "Hang there, Harry," he said fiercely.  "We'll not be abandoning you again."

**********

Sirius paced back and forth across the floor.  The room was not small, but it was beginning to feel that way with five people inside.  Sirius felt like a tightly wound spring that would violently uncoil at any moment.

"Sirius, will you _please sit down?  You're giving me a headache," said Celeste._

"No can do," Sirius said brusquely.  "I couldn't possibly sit still."  In truth he was getting a headache himself, but it was from the tension, not the motion.  They had been waiting for three days for Harry to wake up, and Sirius had reached the end of his rope.  Healer Bigelow had said that Harry would come around at any moment now, but that moment seemed very long in coming.  It was like waiting for water to boil – it never happened while you watched.

"I still can't see why I can't wait with Dumbledore," Sirius complained.

"Because I said so," said Healer Bigelow.  "Harry's first few minutes awake should be very calm, and you're anything but."

"Just so you know, we've got your room all ready for when you collapse afterwards," smirked Bellaton.

Sirius gave him a dour look.  He had slept as little as possible since arriving at Alverbrooke, and the others were constantly trying to get him to rest.  He knew that Bellaton was only teasing, but everything seemed to be getting under his skin that day.  He felt like needling someone, and his eyes fell on the hapless Remus Lupin who was sitting quietly in a chair, reading a book.  "How can you just sit there?" Sirius charged him.  "Don't you realize that Harry is about to wake up?"

Lupin sighed and put down the book.  "_I won't be seeing him until some time after," he said.  "You're going to monopolize him."_

"Well, I am his godfather."

"Only because I turned the job down first."

"What?"

"Only joking," said Lupin, picking up the book again with a smile.

Sirius resumed his pacing.  "What on earth is taking him so long?  You'd think that six days of sleep would be enough."

The others grinned at each other.  "We'll make sure Harry knows that he's not quite resilient enough for you," said Bellaton.

Dumbledore appeared in the doorway.  Sirius froze in his tracks.  The headmaster smiled, and Sirius leapt through the doorway and down the hall.  He skidded into Harry's room to see his godson sitting up and grinning at him, looking as healthy as a normal fifteen-year-old should.

"Sirius!" he shouted.

It was the sweetest sound in all the world.  Sirius threw his arms around Harry and burst into passionate tears.

Harry squeezed his hand.  "It's all right, Sirius, I'm fine."

Harry was trying to console him!  The realization only made Sirius cry harder.  He never cried in front of anyone; his father had always called tears a sign of weakness.  But in that sublime moment, Sirius didn't care who heard or saw.  Harry had finally made it, and it was the happiest day of his life.


	3. The Mysterious Letter: Ron Weasley

**A/N: Fred and George have some fun at Ron's expense.**

totallystellar: I'm glad you liked the chapter.  I think I needed to write something sweet after sending poor Professor Thornby off to Azkaban.  I love Sirius Black.  Have I ever said that before?  I love the "awwww" in your review.  :-)

PhoenixTearsp322: I'm not sure that Sirius is too worried about what other people think in general, but if your father drills it into you that you shouldn't cry because it's not manly… well, you wouldn't want to do it.  If you ever don't feel like reviewing because you haven't got anything to say, that's perfectly fine.  Not that I don't love your reviews (because I do), but I would understand.  You've been a great support for me – thanks for everything!

jemma: Sirius is too hyper?  Well, I always figured that there was one thing that Sirius would be absolutely manic about, and that's Harry.  Just like he said, after the way his life has turned out, he'll do anything to spare Harry the pain he's suffered.  In a way he's too late, but he'd still like to try.  He takes his role as godfather very seriously.  The Dursleys don't really count as next of kin in his eyes; under better circumstances, Sirius would have taken Harry into his own care after the deaths of Lily and James.

Three: The Mysterious Letter (Ron Weasley)

Ron Weasley bent down, rummaged beneath a bush, and closed his fist on another garden gnome.  He straightened up as quickly as possible and began to swing the lumpy creature above his head in a circle.  When the gnome's cries of "geroff, geroff!" ceased, he let it fly.  The gnome soared over the hedge and into the field on the other side.

"Nice one, Ron," said Bill, shading his eyes with his hand to watch the gnome's trajectory.

"Thanks." Ron pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped at his face.  It was a hot, sunny day in his part of the world.  Hot days always made degnoming the garden an unpleasant exercise.

Ron's arms were beginning to ache from swinging the gnomes about.  He surreptitiously stuck a finger in his mouth to soothe it, hoping that the twins wouldn't see.  Ron had disdained the dragonhide gloves his mother had proffered, thinking that he had done enough degnoming not to need them.  He'd been wrong, but he'd rather die than admit it in front of Fred and George.  He was quick, but the ugly little creatures were astonishingly agile.  More than one had sunk its teeth into his fingers before he could send them flying.

"How's it going out here, dears?" said his mother's voice behind him.  Ron quickly took his finger out of his mouth.  "Oh, you've been at it for hours.  How about some lemonade?"

"Spot on, Mum," said Bill.

"Can't you just convince Dad to forbid the gnomes from coming back?" said George, taking one of the glasses.

Mrs. Weasley sighed.  "Heaven knows I've tried," she said.  "Your father just doesn't seem to have the heart to do it."

"Yeah, well, _he doesn't have to degnome the garden, does he?" complained Fred._

"Why do you think we had so many sons, dear?" said his mother, patting his cheek.  "Slave labor."

"I knew it!" crowed George.  "I've been saying it for ages!"

"Too bad you can't get sent back, isn't it?" chuckled Bill.  "You're stuck here now."

"It's our last year at Hogwarts," said Fred.  "We'll come of age right in the middle of it.  After that we can go anywhere we please."

Mrs. Weasley frowned at the twins.  "After you _graduate, you mean."_

"Oh, we'll graduate, all right," said Fred.  "But after that, we're not promising anything."

"I suppose you're still thinking of becoming good-for-nothings?" Mrs. Weasley said sharply.

Fred and George exchanged fake glances of confusion.  "Ohhh, you mean the _joke shop_," said George, as if he'd just understood.  "'Course we are, Mum!"

"_How many times must I tell you that 'joke shop owner' is neither__ a wise nor a respectable occupation?" she exclaimed._

"Once more at least, obviously," muttered Fred.

"Don't you take that tone of voice with your mother, young man."

"I think it would become them very well," Bill said neutrally, taking a sip from his glass.

"Don't you go putting your oar in!" said Mrs. Weasley.

Ron snatched a glass of lemonade off the tray and slipped away from the group.  He really didn't want to hear this whole argument repeated for the millionth time.  Besides, his mother would be starting in on him about _his career at any moment.  Ron wasn't looking forward to it; he was sure that everyone would laugh if he told them that his secret ambition was to become an Auror.  No one would believe him equal to the task._

Ron stepped into the relative cool inside the Burrow.  Ginny was seated at the kitchen table, kneading a large lump of dough.  "I see _you_ didn't have to do any degnoming," said Ron.

"It's not as if I was just lolling about."  Ginny gave the dough a punch.  "If you want to complain about not doing chores then you should get on Percy's case, not mine."

Ron couldn't disagree with Ginny on that point.  Percy was probably up in his room as usual, scribbling away on long rolls of parchment or reading dull reports.  He called it work, but Ron didn't see how sitting around and reading compared to degnoming.  Percy was growing more and more withdrawn from the family as time went on.  He spent long days at the Ministry, sometimes not coming home until long after dinner.  And when he _was home, he hid himself in his room with those reports.  Percy didn't even seem to notice the way their mother threw sad glances in his direction or how their father was increasingly tight-lipped about his own business at work._

Percy and his father disagreed on one very important subject – Minister Fudge.  Percy thought that Fudge was the greatest thing since sliced bread, while Mr. Weasley saw him as a scheming fool who was too small to fill the shoes of his office.  He never used such hard language in front of his son, but everyone knew what he thought.  Percy was the only member of the family who felt the way he did; everyone else agreed with Mr. Weasley, even Ginny.  Mr. Weasley was levelheaded and wise with experience; Percy was stuffy and obsessed with details.

Percy seemed to have come out of the whole Crouch debacle smelling like a rose, and no one understood why.  Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny had eavesdropped on their parents while they were talking about it.  Their father thought that Percy would be officially censured for breaking protocol.  His actions had allowed Barty Crouch, Jr.'s charade to succeed, though he had been an unwilling abettor.  Yet no disciplinary action had been taken, and Mr. Weasley had heard a rumor that Fudge himself had ordered the matter swept under the rug.  Whatever had happened, Percy was fiercely loyal to Fudge, and a real rift was growing between him and the others.

Ron changed the subject; he didn't want to think about Percy.  "Did we get any mail today?"

"Yes," said Ginny.  "And now that you mention it, I think there was something for you."  She pointed toward a stack of envelopes on the table and gave the dough another irritable punch.

Ron rifled through the stack until he found an envelope with his name on it.  It was in Harry's handwriting.  Ron ripped open the envelope, unfolded the letter, and began to read.

_Dear Ron,_

_This is going to sound weird, but I need you to go off and read this alone, okay?_

Ron blinked.  He read a little further.

_It's really important.  Don't tell ANYONE what I'm about to say here…_

"Who's it from?" said Ginny.

"Ah, from Harry," said Ron, and he instantly wished he hadn't.  It was unlike Harry to be this secretive, so if he was telling Ron not to let anyone else read the letter, then Ron was going to take his friend seriously.

"Oh, how is he?" Ginny continued, her face lighting up.

"Um, he's fine.  Listen, if anyone wants me, I'll be outside."

"Oh.  Well, you'll have to let us know what he says.  Mum might try and convince Dumbledore to let him stay with us, you know."

"Yeah, I know," said Ron.  He quickly left through the front door before Ginny could say anything else.

Ron made his way to the low stone wall that bordered one edge of his parents' property.  He vaulted over it and sat down in the grass on the other side, leaning his back against the warm rock.  He opened the letter again and continued reading.

_I'm writing the same thing to Hermione, but you're the only two.  Burn this when you're done, I'm serious._

Ron frowned.  Harry sounded really paranoid.

_Are you alone yet?_

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed aloud.  "Get on with it!"

_Okay, here goes.  I'm not staying with the Dursleys any more this summer.  Dumbledore reckons it's not safe for me there now.  There's more, but I can't say it here.  Don't worry about me though – I'm fine.  You can keep on writing me, but I can't say any more about this until we can all talk in person.  Hope you're having a nice summer._

_Harry_

Ron stared at the parchment.  Something had happened at Privet Drive and Harry wasn't allowed to write about it.  He didn't sound upset, though, so he must have been telling the truth when he said he was fine.  Ron didn't really understand the need for all the caution; the Weasleys all knew about You-Know-Who and what had happened at the Triwizard Tournament last month.  But Harry seemed anxious to swear Ron to secrecy even though Ron didn't know what the secret was, so he would burn the letter.

Ron was worried about his friend, but he kept it to himself.  His mother worried out loud about Harry, and that was enough for just about everyone.  Harry had had a talk with him and Hermione after the third task.  Ron couldn't imagine the terror of facing You-Know-Who alone and friendless, much less in a graveyard full of Death Eaters in the middle of the night.  He often wondered how Harry was coping, locked away with the Dursleys.  He certainly couldn't turn to them for support.

The hair on the back of Ron's neck stood up.  He quickly folded up the letter and stuffed it into the waistband of his trousers, hiding it beneath his shirt so that it didn't show.  Ever since the twins had turned his teddy bear into a spider, Ron had developed a hyper-sensitivity to the twins' presence.  He got goosebumps every time they tried to sneak up on him.

Ron stood up and stretched nonchalantly.  He turned and blinked when he saw the twins on their hands and knees in the grass not five feet from the other side of the wall.  "What are you doing down there?" he said, feigning surprise.

Fred and George looked extremely put out at having been discovered.  "We're looking for one of Ginny's earrings," Fred lied smoothly.

"Earrings?" Ron snorted.

"Yes, it's one of her favorites, and if we find it we'll have her never-ending devotion," said George.

Ron walked back toward the house.  "You were sneaking," he said over his shoulder.  "And you already have her never-ending devotion.  You're her _brothers._"

Fred and George quickly got to their feet and caught up with Ron, flanking him on both sides.  "Ginny says you got a letter from Harry," said Fred.

"Yes," said Ron.

"How's he doing?" said George.

"Fine."

"Just fine?" said Fred.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" said Ron.  The hair was standing up on the back of his neck again.  They were trying to ambush him.  He just knew it.

"No tales of the heinous Dursleys to regale us with?" said George.

"No," snapped Ron.

"I wonder where Hedwig is," Fred mused lightly.  "Whenever Harry writes she usually sticks around, waiting for a response."

"She's probably sleeping somewhere, you idiot," Ron said irritably.  "Or didn't you know that owls are nocturnal?"

They entered the house.  Ron eyed the kitchen fire, wondering how he would be able to slip the letter in without the twins noticing, but at that moment Mrs. Weasley re-entered with Bill.  "Thank you for taking care of that, boys," she said.

Fred and George turned to look at her.  Ron saw his chance.  He pulled the letter from his waistband and tried to toss it into the flames, but the parchment crackled as it moved and the twins whirled about.

"Aha!" cried Fred, diving for the letter.  Ron leaped away, and the twins took off after him.  "I knew it!  It's a love letter!" Fred laughed.

"It's from Harry, and it's none of your business!" Ron called over his shoulder.

"Then why wouldn't you let us see it?" said George.  His eyes twinkled.  "Ickle Ronniekins has a girlfriend!"

"No I don't!" Ron shouted, turning over a chair in an effort to slow the twins' pursuit.  "And don't call me that!"

"I wonder who it could be!  Maybe Parvati Patil?"

"Or her sister!"

"Or Pansy Parkinson!"

"Shut up!" snapped Ron.

"Or Susan Bones, she's turning into quite a looker!"

"Or maybe…" George began, and the twins finished in singsong harmony: "Her-my-oh-nee!"

"AAAUGH!"  Ron pivoted on his heel and launched himself at both his brothers at once.  Fred and George were so surprised that Ron managed to knock them both flat and make it back to the kitchen fire.  By the time they caught up with him again, the letter was no more than a pile of black char.  Fred and George immediately began to tussle with Ron again.

"Fred, George, Ron!  Stop it this instant!" cried Mrs. Weasley.  She and Bill rushed in to pull Ron off his older brothers.  "That will be enough!" she said firmly.  Bill pulled Ron away though he still struggled to get at the twins.

"Hedwig!" Ginny exclaimed.

Everyone looked; the snowy owl had just soared in through the open window and perched herself on the back of Ginny's chair.  "Here, you must be hungry," said Ginny.  "Have you been napping in the attic?"  She held out some crackers in one hand.  Hedwig fluttered onto her arm and began pecking at them.  "Look, she likes me!"

"See?" Ron said triumphantly.

Fred and George grudgingly admitted defeat, but Ron didn't trust the gleam in their eyes.  It was the last thing he'd seen just before his teddy bear had turned into a big, hairy spider.

**********

It was late afternoon, and Ron had hidden himself in the garden in an attempt to write a response to Harry.  Hedwig was perched on his left shoulder, watching his quill scratch across the parchment.  Ron was writing as fast as he could, knowing that his brothers would soon be after him.  They had been watching him like a hawk all day, and now that he was gone they would be searching high and low, hoping to catch a glimpse of his response.  Even Hedwig hadn't been enough to dispel their suspicions; now they theorized that Harry was a sort of go-between for Ron and his mystery lady.  Ron shook his head in disgust.  _Idiots, he thought.  __You'd never know they were almost seventeen._

"He's in the garden, Fred!"  Ron looked up.  George's head was sticking out a window three stories above him.

Ron scrambled to his feet, and Hedwig fluttered off his shoulders with a squawk.  Ron took off running, clutching his parchment, envelope, and quill tightly in one hand.  He ducked into a small wood several yards off the property and jogged until he could no longer hear his brothers' shouts.  He sank down onto a fallen log with a tired sigh and pulled out the parchment again.  Hedwig fluttered down beside him.  _Great, now the clock probably says I'm lost and Mum will be shouting bloody murder,_ Ron thought.  _All over this stupid secret letter!_

Only a minute or two passed before Fred and George's voices became audible once more.  Ron scribbled some sort of closing line and folded the letter haphazardly.  He stuffed it into the envelope as fast as he could, licked the seal, and pressed it shut.

Hedwig stretched out her talons.  Ron started to give her the letter but paused momentarily.  He couldn't hear Fred and George just then; maybe they weren't quite as close as he had thought.

Ron had just begun to write YOU OWE ME in big, black letters on the back of the envelope when Fred popped out from behind a tree.  "Oi!  Here he is!"

George appeared from out of nowhere.  Ron tossed the envelope at Hedwig as his brothers tackled him.  She caught it in midair and soared away through the trees.

"You – crazy – gits!" Ron shouted as they tumbled through the leaves.  His fist connected solidly with something, one of the twins yelped, and Ron was suddenly free.

"Ooh, dice wod, Rod," said Fred, who was sporting a bloody nose.

"It's no more than you deserved," he retorted.

"Here, pinch it and look up," George directed.

"Rod, you should'a led us hab it," Fred said.  "It can'd be word dat much trubble."

"It wasn't," Ron said dryly.  "But maybe that'll teach you not to stick your nose where it doesn't belong."

"His nose is sorry, at least," said George.

Ron couldn't help but laugh.


	4. Rogue Thoughts: Hermione Granger

**A/N:** Here is an interlude in which Hermione reflects on things during a pleasant summer afternoon.  Hope you all like it.

totallystellar: You don't like Ron much?  I find that incomprehensible but I know you're not the only one who feels that way.  Fred and George are an absolute gold mine for a writer.

Phoenixtearsp322: Hee!  I'm really glad you liked the Weasley interactions.  They are so much fun to write about!

chuckleseviltroll312: This is kind of therapeutic for me.  It's really refreshing to write from another person's POV other than Harry, at least every now and then.

Danae: Hooray for Fred and George!  My favorite lines in any of the five books are theirs, from Azkaban.  The whole "really corking, absolutely spiffing" thing gets me in stitches every time.  I just LOVE it.

weirdsister: Well, I think I'll leave these chapters where they are instead of putting them into Guardians, but that's why I made this in the first place.  :-)  But yes, you can see them as "missing chapters" that are just from other characters' POV.

Rob: You are right – I had forgotten all about poor Frank Bryce.  Sorry I haven't worked on this in so long.  I just got so sucked up in the main story that this got left behind, but it wasn't forgotten.

Four: Rogue Thoughts (Hermione Granger)

"Come on, Hermione!  Are you sure you don't want to play?  You can be Beater – it's the easiest position there is," Ron wheedled.

"Do Fred and George know you feel that way?" said Harry with a grin.  He and Ron were standing just inside the doorway to the library, decked out in gantlets, elbow pads, and shin guards.  Both of them were holding broomsticks; Harry had his sleek, dangerous-looking Firebolt while Ron was borrowing Bellaton's Zephyr.

"Sorry, but I'm going to pass," said Hermione.

"Again?" said Ron.  "Who needs books when there's Quidditch to play?"

"Who needs Quidditch when there's so much to read?" Hermione retorted.

"Come on Harry, help me convince her!"

Harry shook his head.  "No way am I getting into it.  You two do very well by yourselves, thank you."

"Look, I'll come outside and watch," said Hermione.  _That should be a fair compromise,_ she thought.  _Actually, it is a beautiful day.  Sitting in the sun might be nice._

"Well... all right," said Ron.  He jabbed a finger in her direction.  "But next time you're playing!"

Hermione shook her head as they left.  Ron always thought that a compromise meant he was winning when it really meant that _both_ parties had given up ground.

She turned her attention back to the entrancing sight before her.  The moment she had first seen the library, she had fallen in love.  The ceiling was twenty-five feet high, and dark wooden bookshelves lined every inch, save where there were windows.  Those windows were some of the best things about the room; libraries didn't have to be musty and dim, but far too often they were.  One wheeled ladder stood ready for use on each side of the room, which could glide down the whole length of the wall.  More bookshelves were neatly arranged in the center of the room, though none were as tall as those against the sides.  Wine-red velvety armchairs were placed here and there, some with ottomans to soothe tired feet.  Even the floor was beautiful, worked in a tile mosaic of the nine muses.

As lovely as it was, all of it would have been nothing more than just another beautiful room were it not for the books.  The books!  Thousands of them filled the shelves.  They came in every size, shape, and color, and not a single one was dusty.  This was just the sort of room Hermione dreamed about having in her own home someday - clean, comfortable, and above all, bursting with books.  Hermione loved the smell of the leather and old parchment.  The idea that so much knowledge was right there at her fingertips, just waiting to be discovered, was intoxicating.

It took Hermione a moment to remember the spot where she had left off.  Professor Bellaton had recommended that she take a look at _Magical Music_ by Carmen Churchill to learn more about Singers, but she had come across so many other fascinating titles during her search that she hadn't found it yet.  Today she intended to rectify that.  No matter what caught her eye, she wouldn't pick it up.

Hermione climbed halfway up one of the wheeled ladders and gave herself a push off of a shelf.  The ladder slid across the tiled floor, crossing Calliope's face and passing two tall windows as if it touched nothing but air.  Hermione surreptitiously glanced around to make sure no one was watching and gave herself a push back in the other direction.  She laughed aloud as the air breezed through her hair.  She would rather die than let Harry or Ron see her do such a childish thing – they would never let her hear the end of it, not for the rest of her life – but it really was fun.  She slid to a stop right in front of her old place.  She climbed up a few rungs and peered over at the leatherbound spines.

_Great Occlumens of Modern Times.  The Labyrinth of the Mind.  Legilimency: Blessing or Curse?  The Mental Watchtower.  Thought Thieves._

"Wrong place," Hermione murmured.  Those were all about Legilimency and Occlumency, two branches of magic that she knew were related.  Another time she would gladly curl up with any of them, but she was going to stick to the plan.  Singers first.  She climbed further up and tried again.

_The Battle of Bishop's Lynn.  Enchanted Compositions. The Forbidden Talent.   Magical Music._

"There you are," said Hermione, pulling the book from the shelf.  As she looked up from the book she found herself catching a glimpse of the Quidditch game through the window on her right.  Not forgetting her promise to Ron, she climbed down from the ladder and hurried out of the library.  

The game was being played on the east side of the house.  Hermione sat down in front of a large oak tree and leaned back against the trunk to watch, her book momentarily closed.

Sirius was the only beater, and he didn't seem to be on either team, as he was taking aim at just about everybody.  Lupin and Professor Thornby were the Chasers, Harry was the Seeker, and Ron and Bellaton were Keepers.  Ron's choice of position was no surprise to Hermione.  Ever since they had first come to Alverbrooke, he had been taking advice from the older man, who had been Keeper for Gryffindor in his own days at school.  Ron hadn't said anything yet, but Hermione was sure that he was going to try out for the team this year.  She silently willed him to learn everything he could; he loved to play, and making the team would give his self-confidence a huge boost.  He was always in Harry's shadow and even though Harry was as humble as could be, considering his fame, it still had to be a difficult place to be.

_Harry._  Hermione worried about him so much that she felt like she was turning into his mother.  She hoped he wasn't still feeling guilty over Cedric's death, though she couldn't blame him if he was.  She fervently hoped that she would never have to go through anything so horrible as that.

Harry was a magnet for trouble.  When she'd gotten his cryptic letter just two weeks ago, she knew something big had happened, but whatever it was was over by the time Harry wrote.  She'd written back with forced cheerfulness, just in case things hadn't been as peachy as Harry had said.  Then Dumbledore had shown up at her parents' house out of the blue and taken all of them to the Burrow.  Hermione had never been there before, but she had been too worried about her friend to be properly interested.  When Dumbledore had told them all what happened, Hermione had nearly cried.  The headmaster minced no words and told them that it had been a very close call indeed.

Hermione wished more than anything else that they all could have lived in more peaceful times.  She had never had two friends like Harry and Ron before, and they had nearly lost one of their number so many times that she was beginning to lose count.  Hermione didn't think she could bear it if she lost either of her friends.  They had been through so much together and grown so close-knit that she couldn't imagine life without them.

"Nice save, Ron!" shouted Bellaton as Ron blocked one of Lupin's shots.  Ron grinned and tossed the Quaffle back to Professor Thornby, who swerved around Lupin and headed back for the other goal.

_Ron IS getting better,_ Hermione thought as she watched.  She didn't care much for flying herself, but after observing dozens of team practices and matches, she was developing something of an eye for talent.  Ron's reflexes were certainly improving, and he was learning how to cover all three hoops at the same time.

Harry suddenly dropped toward the earth like a stone.  Hermione squeaked and covered her eyes with her hands; no matter how many times she had seen him do it before, that sort of thing always set her heart pounding.  There was a loud CRACK as Sirius' club made contact with a Bludger, and Harry was forced to swerve out of its way.

"Ha ha!" Sirius crowed.  "You're going to have to be faster than that if you want to catch the Snitch!"

"Just you wait," Harry shouted.

"If I'm as good as I think I am, I'll be waiting all day," Sirius shouted back.

Hermione smiled.  At carefree times like these, it seemed hard to believe that she and her friends were inexorably approaching adulthood.  Every now and then she would remember that she and Ron would come of age in a little over two years.  It would be less than that for Harry, who was already fifteen and looking it.  He wasn't skinny like a rake any longer.  Quidditch had put a little muscle on his arms, and all his practice with the quarterstaff was surely helping too.  Put that together with his jet-black mop of hair and bright green eyes, and he really wasn't unpleasant to look at.

Harry wasn't the only one who had changed.  Ron had done a lot of growing up over the last year, literally and figuratively.  Sometime in the last few months he'd shot up like a weed and now he was even taller than Harry.  Hermione held her book close to her chest and considered Ron carefully.  His own bright red hair made him stand out in any crowd, and he had very cute freckles and beautiful brown eyes...

_Beautiful brown eyes?  Where on earth did THAT come from?_ Hermione thought in amazement.  Of course she was always very aware that both of her two best friends were boys, and she'd always thought that Ron's freckles were sweet, but she'd never really assessed them this way before.  She'd always figured that Harry would grow up to be good looking.  He could hardly help it with the striking contrast between his hair and eyes, but when it came to Ron and those mischievous freckles...

_Stop thinking about the freckles!_  Why was she even dwelling on Ron like this?  It was disconcerting.

Ron suddenly looked down at the oak tree where Hermione was sitting.  He blinked in surprise, stared at her staring at him, and then –

"Watch out, Ron!" Sirius shouted.

Ron snapped back to attention, and WHAM!  The Bludger slammed right into his stomach.  Hermione yelped in surprise and Ron doubled over on his broomstick, wheezing.

The game immediately halted and everyone swarmed around Ron.  "Are you all right?" said Harry.

"Huh," said Ron, nodding his head, though he looked anything but fine.  "Huh."

"I think that's a yes," said Lupin.

Bellaton shook his head.  "Get distracted like that and you'll be beaten to a bloody pulp."  He looked down at Hermione and flashed her a big, white grin.  Hermione blushed and clutched her book a little closer.

Ron coughed.  "Won't... happen... again."

Harry was entirely focused on Ron, but the four adults were looking down at Hermione.  Sirius was grinning as broadly as Bellaton was, while Lupin and Professor Thornby wore little knowing smiles.  Hermione wanted to smack all of them.  They didn't know as much as they thought they did!  She haughtily lifted her chin, opened her book, and stared defiantly at the page in front of her though she wasn't really seeing it.  After a minute she looked back up.  Ron seemed to be recovering.

"_Your book is upside-down,_" Professor Thornby's voice whispered in her ear.  Hermione jumped and looked around, but Harry's guardian was still hovering in the air at least twenty feet away.  There was no way she could have been right next to Hermione a moment ago.  Professor Thornby casually winked at her, pocketed her wand, and turned away.

The game was resuming.  When no one was looking, Hermione quickly turned the book over.  She looked back at the others and caught Ron's eye.  He grinned sheepishly and refocused on Lupin, who was heading straight for him with the Quaffle.

No one was watching Hermione any more.  She sighed with relief and turned to the first page of _Magical Music_, really starting to read this time.  Losing herself in a book would be the perfect balm for her acute embarrassment.  Her last thought before being swept away was that from then on, she should try _not_ to notice anybody's freckles.


	5. Like a Longbottom: Neville Longbottom

**A/N:** Okay, I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!  It made me get all misty-eyed.

PhoenixTearsp322: I just figured that it was another cool little voice trick, but you wouldn't have to be a Singer to know it.  And thanks for the heads-up about that error – it's been fixed.

Jemma Blackwell: Gee, I'm sorry if I was harsh in my response to your review of the Sirius chapter.  If I was, it wasn't my intention to be so.  I could see where you were coming from – one of Sirius' flaws is that he's rather hotheaded.  He'll speak without thinking, and he definitely did that in his chapter here.  In a way, you're right – he was hyper, though it was only out of concern for the kid that he would have been raising had he not been sent to Azkaban.  I just want you to know that _I_ wasn't hurt by your first review – I disagreed, but it was fine.  :-)  I really like getting reviews from you, whether we see eye-to-eye or not.  Cheers!

Dragon's Daughter2: Thanks!  And just so you know, I _have_ started Year 6 – it's called Harry Potter and the Dark Uprising and Chapter 1 is up, because I'm not as evil as the end of Guardians might have implied.

krysalys73: Thanks for the encouragement!  It's always nice to hear from you, because you're always nice.  If you ever have any criticism, though, I'll take it like a woman!  You know, I'm not sure what color Ron's eyes are.  I just picked brown.  I can't remember any place in the books where the color was specified, so if you or anyone else can find one, I'd like to be informed.

Five: Like a Longbottom (Neville Longbottom)

"Neville, wait up!"

Neville looked over his shoulder at his cousin Frannie who was trying to keep pace with him.  "Come and get me!" he shouted.  He leaned forward behind Marquise's neck and kicked her flanks.  "Yah!"  The horse's jolting canter became a smooth, full-out gallop.

"I'm gonna catch you this time, cousin!  Just wait and see!" Frannie shouted.  Her twin brother Max whooped beside her and spurred his own mount forward.

Neville laughed as the wind streamed through Marquise's mane and into his face.  There was no feeling in the world that compared to racing along on the back of a horse.  Well, maybe flying; of course, this was as close as he'd probably ever get to flying.  None of the Longbottoms seemed able to understand how Neville could be such a natural on horseback and so wrong on a broomstick.  Neville didn't understand it himself, but he didn't ask questions.  He was perfectly happy to keep his backside off broomsticks.

_The problem's that broomsticks aren't alive,_ thought Neville.  _Then again, they sort of are._  Broomsticks could have a mind of their own, especially if they sensed that you weren't in control.  You really couldn't communicate with a length of wood.  Neville had no idea how his classmates did it.  Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean were all good flyers, though Harry flew as if he had been born doing it.  Neville wouldn't have minded knowing how to fly; it looked like a lot of fun, and he was keenly aware of how much he was missing out on every time he had to sit on the sidelines and watch his family play an informal game of Quidditch.  Well, he couldn't do it.  Truly living creatures, on the other hand, he could deal with.

Neville had always had an uncanny ability with living things, particularly plants.  Herbology was easily his best subject.  He wasn't sure exactly how he did it, but he had no trouble coaxing the greenhouse plants to unfold their petals, grow tall, or behave, in the case of Snapdragons and venomous tentaculas.  Care of Magical Creatures was another class he did well in, and considering the kinds of things Hagrid brought in, that was saying something.

When the animal wasn't magical, Neville was even more successful.  Cats, dogs, frogs, birds… they were all easy to work with.  It was almost as if they had all decided that Neville was a kindred spirit and therefore trustworthy.  Still, it didn't stop Trevor from escaping at every opportunity.  He was a mischievous toad.  Neville strongly suspected that Trevor got a good toady laugh at his expense whenever he showed up in the girls' dormitory.  The girls would all shriek and squeal and raise a terrible fuss.  None of the girls had toads; they were "warty" and "gross".

Unfortunately, skill in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures didn't count for much with Gran.  Neville always felt nervous and sad when thinking about his formidable grandmother.  He knew that she loved him – she would show it whenever he was least expecting it – but she was obviously disappointed in his performance in school, and Neville hated to disappoint her.  She never said it outright, but he knew that she desperately wanted him to live up to his father's reputation.  Try as he might, though, Neville knew he would never be able to replace his father – Gran's son.  He and Neville's mum had both been Aurors.  There was no way Neville would ever be an Auror; he was hopeless at Potions and struggled with Transfiguration, both of which you needed to get into Auror training.  And even if he could have gotten in, he knew he'd be jinxed down the very first time he faced danger.

The problem was that the only occupations that carried much honor in the Longbottom clan were ones that brought the clan more honor.  A long time ago, two Longbottoms had been Minster of Magic in succession.  Neville's Aunt Beatrice was a member of the Assembly.  Two uncles were well-known Healers, another Aunt was a Chaser on a league Quidditch team, Gran had a brother who was an Unspeakable, and there were dozens of others who worked at the Ministry of Magic.  From the looks of things, Neville was going to grow up to be a gardener.  This was not on the family's list of acceptable professions.

The whole family thought Neville was something of a dud.  Just like Gran, no one ever said anything where they thought he could hear, but Neville knew what they were thinking.  _How could he be the son of Frank and Alice?  _One time, just before he'd gone to Hogwarts, he'd overheard his Aunt Ruby talking with Uncle Glenn.  "He's practically a Squib," Aunt Ruby had said.  "I think Alice might have taken a stray curse while she was pregnant."  Uncle Glenn had seen Neville peeking around the corner and shushed her angrily, but the damage was done.  Neville had never really liked Aunt Ruby much.  Everyone else treated him like a normal member of the family, but they were always thinking it… even if they were too gracious to bring it up.  _At least I got into Gryffindor,_ thought Neville.  _Things would be a whole lot worse if I hadn't._

Neville breathed in deeply, inhaling Marquise's scent.  He loved horses, especially this one.  Marquise was his own, a gift from Gran.  Neville had learned to ride on her back, and over the years they had grown into lifelong friends.  Whenever Neville looked into her warm brown eyes she would gaze back at him so calmly that he felt she knew every inch of him.  Marquise never judged him.  She really was Neville's closest friend, and he always regretted not being able to bring her to Hogwarts.

A fallen log suddenly appeared in the tall grass ahead, and Marquise cleared it with grace.  Neville couldn't help grinning to himself when he realized that his ability to ride would probably impress his classmates back at school.  None of them knew he could do it; he never brought it up.  None of them knew about his parents either.  Contrary to his grandmother's opinion, Neville wasn't ashamed of his mother and father.  The problem was, they were truly helpless in their current state, and he didn't want to be pitied by association.  His friends at school did that enough although they didn't seem to know that he knew.

Marquise galloped around the edge of a thicket and into a sunny meadow.  On the far side was the brook and stand of willows Neville had been looking for.  "Easy," he said, pulling back on the reins.  Marquise's gallop slowed to a canter and then to a trot.  Neville patted her neck.  "That was a good run, wasn't it, girl?  I'll bet you'd like a drink from that nice, cold stream."  Marquise whickered, and Neville smiled.

Frannie and Max suddenly came barreling around the edge of the thicket.  "Whoa!" they both cried, quickly reining in their own mounts.

"Almost had you," said Max with a grin.

"No you didn't," said Neville.  "I left you back in the dust."

"But we were closer this time!" said Frannie.  "Someday we'll catch you."

"Sure you will, kiddo," said Neville, grinning slyly at her.  Frannie stuck out her tongue, but she grinned back.

"Come on, let's eat!" said Max.  "I'm starving!"

The three of them trotted across the meadow to the willow trees, the twins in front and Neville behind.  Max and Frannie had practically been born on horseback, and the way they rode showed it.  They were ten years old and still a year away from starting at Hogwarts, but you'd never know it from the way they sat a horse.  They were Neville's favorite cousins despite the fact that Aunt Ruby was their mother.  They never seemed to care that Neville was the dark horse of the family, and he loved them for it.  Max and Frannie always made him feel like a better wizard than the others thought he was.

When they reached the stand of trees the three of them dismounted and let the horses meander.  Max unfolded a large picnic blanket, Frannie untied the basket from her saddle, and they settled down for lunch beneath the trees.  For a long time they simply ate, laughed, and talked about nothing.  Eventually the twins, tired of sitting, picked up long, dead, flexible willow branches from the ground and began using them as swishy swords.

"Dad's teaching us to fence," said Max.  "En garde!"

Frannie giggled and stuck her whiplike stick out before her.  She and her brother slashed at each other in a disorderly fashion.

"I think you need stiffer sticks," said Neville.

"Yeah," said Max.  "I can't run anyone through with this."

"You can't run anyone through if you fight like that, either," said Neville.

"Just wait," said Max, waving his branch about every which way.  "I'm going to be the best swordsman ever!  None will dare approach me!  Hah!"

Neville smiled knowingly.  "And when you're waving your sword about like that, someone's going to come up and –"

"Ooof!" said Max, and he dropped his branch.

Frannie laughed with glee, having successfully poked him in the belly with a straighter branch from an oak tree.  "Now you're Max-on-a-stick!" she teased.

Max went pink with embarrassment.  "I wasn't ready," he pouted.

"You'll get better," said Neville, "but I think that when you've got your weapon in hand you've got to be ready."

"Do you have fencing at Hogwarts?" said Frannie, her eyes shining.

"Yeah!  Tell us about Hogwarts!" said Max, his humiliation immediately forgotten.

Neville grinned.  His cousins never tired of hearing about school.  Neither could wait until they were old enough to attend.  "We don't have a fencing class, but we did have a Dueling Club for a while," he said.

"You mean dueling with wands?" said Max.

"Yep," said Neville.  "Uncle Glenn taught you how to stand when you fence, right?"  The twins nodded.  "Well, that's how you start a wizard's duel.  Then you cast spells at each other."

"Wow.  What kind of spells?" said Frannie.

"Curses, jinxes, and hexes," said Neville.

"I'll bet you know loads of jinxes," said Max.

Neville flushed a bit.  "I know some," he said.  The twins never seemed aware of how pitiful his skills could be.

"Like what?" Frannie urged.

"Well, there's _Tarantallegra_," said Neville.  "That one makes your feet dance and you can't stop.  Or _Petrificus Totalus._  That makes you freeze, like you've been petrified.  And _Rictusempra_ makes you laugh and laugh."

"What good does that do?" said Max.

"It's hard to say a spell properly when you're laughing," said Neville.

"Oh," said Max.

"I'll bet you're really good at dueling," said Frannie admiringly.

"I'm okay," said Neville.  "I've got some friends who are better, though.  Hermione knows loads of spells."

"Is Harry Potter good at dueling?" said Max.

"He's really good," Neville said truthfully.

"I'll bet he's good at everything," said Frannie.

Neville smiled inwardly.  His young cousins, like so many children who had only ever heard the legend of Harry Potter, saw him as a shining, infallible hero.  Max and Frannie were completely dumbfounded by the fact that Neville was friends with Harry.  Neville knew that this probably contributed to their awe of him, but he didn't mind much.  He had the feeling that they'd still be pretty infatuated with him even if he didn't know Harry Potter.

"Well, he's not good at everything," said Neville.  "In fact, he's really bad at Divination.  Hermione gets better marks than he does.  Then again, she gets better marks than everyone."

"Well, he's got to be nice if _you_ like him," said Max.

Neville looked at his cousins.  They were beaming at him with such adoration that at that moment, he was more grateful for them than ever.  They thought Harry was special because Neville had given him the stamp of approval.  _They've got no idea how many people see it the other way,_ thought Neville.  _People think I'm special because _Harry_ likes_ me.  He smiled back at his cousins, feeling the sting of salty tears in his eyes.

"Look!" said Frannie, pointing across the meadow.  "Here comes Daddy!"

Uncle Glenn was cantering toward them on his own chestnut stallion, Achilles.  He reined the horse in as he drew close.  "Hullo, kids!  Enjoying your picnic?"

"Yes, Daddy," said Frannie.  "Neville's telling us about the Dueling Club at Hogwarts!"

"Ah," said Uncle Glenn, smiling down at his daughter.  "And do they use foils?"

"No, Dad!" said Max.  "They use their wands!"  The twins giggled.

"Well, speaking of Hogwarts, it's why I've come to find you," he said.  "Neville's letter just arrived."

The twins made exclamations of delight and jumped up.  Neville's heart sank.  His cousins had been harping on the subject of the letter for weeks, knowing that this was the year that prefects were chosen among Neville and his classmates.  They kept saying that they were sure it would be Neville, while everyone else just smiled sadly and turned away.  None of the adults thought it would be him.  They knew how hopeless he was, and now the day Neville had been dreading had finally come.  His cousins were about to get a terrible letdown.

"Oh, let's go open it now!" said Frannie.

Neville shook his head.  "Can't we stay here a while longer?"

Uncle Glenn gave Neville a sympathetic look.  For once, Neville didn't mind.  Uncle Glenn was another one of his favorite relatives because he treated Neville like a true member of the family and not an aberration.  Sometimes Neville found it hard to believe that he was married to Aunt Ruby.  "It might be best to just get it over and done with," Uncle Glenn said kindly.

"Yeah, come on, Neville!" said Max.

Neville sighed and stood up.  The twins quickly folded up the picnic blanket, tied the basket behind Frannie's saddle, and mounted their horses.  Neville reluctantly followed suit, and the four of them began trotting back to the house.

Neville's insides were writhing like a pit of snakes.  As they drew closer to home, he felt more and more as if he were going to sick up.  He was so afraid that his cousins were going to be disappointed enough to finally be disillusioned.  Would they start looking at him like everyone else did, like a near-Squib that brought shame on the Longbottom name?  Neville didn't think he could bear it if that happened.

"Everything will be well," Uncle Glenn said softly at his side.  "They'll love you no matter what happens."

Neville looked over at his uncle in surprise.  It was as if the older man had read his mind perfectly.  Uncle Glenn smiled encouragingly, and Neville felt his heart rise a bit.  Maybe he was right about Frannie and Max.

They arrived at the big old house and dismounted.  Four house-elves appeared and took the horses' reins as the riders dismounted.  Frannie and Max giggled and ran straight into the house, but Neville lingered a moment to stroke Marquise's nose.  "At least you don't care if I make prefect or not," he said softly.  She whickered and bucked her head as if to show that she understood.  Neville sighed and dropped his hand, allowing the house-elves to lead her back to the stables.  "Well – let's get it over with," he said morosely.  Uncle Glenn squeezed his shoulder, and they walked up the front steps and through the front door.

"I've got it here, Neville, I've got it!" said Max, running up to meet them with his sister.  Neville jumped.  There it was, staring him in the face – the now familiar creamy envelope addressed in emerald green ink.  Professor McGonagall's precise handwriting seemed to mock his feelings of inadequacy.

"Open it, Neville, open it!" said Frannie, bouncing on her toes.

"Hush, Frannie!" said Uncle Glenn.  "Don't rush him."

Neville took the envelope from his cousin.  His hands felt like two lead weights that would drag his whole body down to the floor.  With a mounting sense of dread, he broke the seal and opened the flap.  He tilted the envelope up, and to his surprise, something loose slid out and fell to the polished wooden floor.

"I knew it!" Max crowed.

Neville stared down at the thing on the floor in complete disbelief.  The afternoon sunlight glinted off the surface of a perfectly polished golden prefect's badge.

"Neville's a prefect!" Frannie squealed, and she took off running down the hallway.  "Neville's a prefect!  Neville's a prefect!"  It sounded like she was moving through all the downstairs rooms to proclaim the news.

Neville bent down to pick up the badge, feeling numb from shock.  The shining metal was cool and heavy beneath his fingers.  At the top of the badge was a little golden lion, and engraved on the shield was a large letter "P".

Uncle Glenn had begun to chuckle.  "Well, I'll be.  Congratulations, Neville."

"I…" said Neville, faltering.  "I…"

"What is all this racket?" said Gran's sharp voice.  "Really, Glenn, your children shouldn't shout indoors –"  She broke off in midsentence.

Neville looked up at his grandmother.  She was staring openmouthed at the golden thing in his hand.  "Neville, is that – "

"He's a prefect, Maggie," said Uncle Glenn proudly.

"My Neville – a prefect?" she said.  She raised one hand to her mouth and began to smile behind it.  She took a few halting steps toward her grandson.  "My Neville?"

Neville stretched out his hand, the badge resting on his open palm.  Whenever Gran called him "my Neville", there was nothing he could deny her.  Absolutely nothing.

Gran reached out and tenderly touched the prize, her other hand still trembling in front of her mouth.  Her smile widened and a tear slid down her cheek.  "Oh, I'm so proud," she whispered.  "So proud!"  She lowered her hand and beamed at Neville.  Suddenly she swept forward, put her hands on either side of Neville's face, and kissed his forehead.  A moment later, both her arms had swept him up in an embrace.  Behind them, Neville heard Uncle Glenn give an emotional sniff.

There came the sound of heels clicking on the wooden floor, and Aunt Ruby's loud, brassy voice filled the entryway.  "What's this Frances is saying about Neville being a prefect?"

Neville's grandmother let go of him.  He turned toward his aunt and held up the badge.  He was smiling as broadly as his Uncle Glenn now; he couldn't help it.

Aunt Ruby gasped.  "My word," she said.  "I'd never have thought… well, congratulations, nephew!"

"Thank you," said Neville, relieved that she didn't add what she was probably thinking – that Dumbledore had gone off his nut at long last.

It wasn't long before half a dozen of Neville's other aunts and uncles had crowded into the hallway, all of them hugging him and clapping him on the shoulder.  The badge was passed around and everyone stared at it in wonder.  They were all talking on top of each other, saying how they never would have believed that it could happen, but now that it had they were all proud and it was a great day for the Longbottom family.  Neville, however, only had eyes for a scant few people – his grandmother and his two cousins.  Gran looked happier than he had seen her in years, and Frannie and Max were jumping up and down with excitement.

"I knew you could do it," said Gran.  Neville didn't think anyone else heard her among the jumble of excited voices, but he did.

"You're the best Gryffindor of them all!" said Frannie when it was her turn to hold the badge.

"Yeah," said Max.  "Dumbledore said so!"

Gran wiped tears from her eyes, and Neville swallowed the lump in his throat.  His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest, but it wasn't just because of the badge.  It was because of the way everyone was looking at him, like someone who was worthy.  Like an equal.

Like a Longbottom.


	6. Making the Team: Ginny Weasley

**A/N: **Here's another feather-light installment for this "back stories" thing.  You know, maybe I should call it "side stories" instead.  That's actually a more accurate way to describe what I'm doing here.  I'm working on Uprising but I don't have as much time to spend on it as I'd like, and I'm still getting the plot worked out.  Bits and pieces of several different chapters have been written.

krysalys73: Hello again!  Well, in Chamber of Secrets _Rictusempra_ was a tickling charm.  It makes sense; "rictus" is another word for a gaping mouth, which is what it does when you laugh, and "sempra" is Latin for "always".  You're quite right that it definitely wasn't a tickling charm in the movie.  Actually there are several people who disagree with you about my writing – they think it _can_ use some improvement – but I do appreciate your praise.

Rob: I believe one of the books referred to the Longbottom "clan" (I can't remember which one or where) so I thought maybe Neville would have a big family.  It's not really clear, is it?  And I'm working on Uprising_, _I promise.

Dragon's Daughter2: Thanks!  I'm glad you liked the way I wrote Neville.  I think he's a really interesting character; he's quiet, but there's a lot going on beneath the surface.

capncrunchnotthecereal: I agree.  All Neville really needs is some self-confidence and a chance to prove himself.

Talix: Thank you!  Sirius' chapter is one of my favorites out of any that I have written for any story.

Haunting Darkness: I did start year 6: it's called Harry Potter and the Dark Uprising.  If you go to my profile page you'll find it listed.

Six: Making the Team (Ginny Weasley)

Ginny Weasley clutched her school broomstick tightly as she walked across the Hogwarts lawns to the Quidditch stadium.  She wasn't the only person heading that way; dozens of Gryffindors were streaming toward the pitch where bright banners were waving in the breeze.  Gryffindor was having tryouts for its first ever reserve Quidditch team that very morning.  Every position was up for grabs.  It truly was a golden opportunity, and every Gryffindor who had ever played Quidditch in their backyard was taking advantage of it.

None of Ginny's close friends were trying out, so she was walking alone.  With no one to talk to she could hear groups of friends chattering excitedly as they walked.

"My sister was a Beater for Gryffindor before the Weasleys.  I learned from her."

"I think I've got a fair shot at Chaser.  My parents say I was born to be one."

"Yeah, you're really good, but you're going to have to watch out for Seamus.  I hear he's got reflexes like a cat…"

Ginny tuned the students out.  Hearing them air out their egos was making her nervous.  She'd heard good things about Seamus Finnigan, too, and she was trying out for Chaser herself.  It didn't do any good to think about the competition.  There were butterflies in her stomach and they were definitely having a party.

Quidditch was a favorite pastime in the Weasley family.  By the time Ginny had been born Mrs. Weasley had ceased to be fearful of her children riding broomsticks, and as a result Ginny had started on the game at a fairly young age.  With Seeker, Beater, and Keeper positions spoken for by Charlie, the twins, and Ron, respectively, that left Ginny on Chaser with Bill.  She'd seldom played anything else during those home games and Bill taught her everything he knew.  Ginny thought that with all those summers of family practice behind her she had a decent chance at the reserve team, but there was no telling how good the other students were.

"Oi, Gin!  Wait up!"

Ginny turned and saw Ron hurrying up to her.  She smiled with real pleasure; seeing him made her feel more at ease.  "Hey, Ron.  Excited?"

"No," Ron said truthfully, falling into step beside her.  "How about you?"

"Not really," said Ginny.  "I'm too nervous to be excited."

"Yeah," said Ron.  "_Everyone's_ trying out for Keeper.  My chances aren't as good as yours."

"Are you saying that I'm going to make the team just because there's a smaller Chaser pool?" said Ginny in tones of mock disapproval.

"Nah.  You'll be great," said Ron.  "I've seen how you play.  I think you could make the regular team right now if there was a spot open."

"Nice save," said Ginny.

"Thanks," said Ron, grinning at her.

"Well, you're right about there being more competition for Keeper," Ginny admitted.  "But I think you've got as good a shot as anybody else.  You were pretty good at blocking me and Bill back home."

"Maybe," Ron said uncertainly.  "The thing is, when I get nervous I start to screw up, and I couldn't eat this morning.  Ugh, I'm gonna let every shot go in.  Katie, Alicia, and Angelina are _really _good.  If only I had a better broomstick!  This old thing isn't going to help at all."  He gave the school broomstick he was toting a derisive shake.  "Harry would've let me use his Firebolt if it hadn't been quite so unfair.  He said it would look bad if I rode it and got picked."

"He's right," said Ginny.  "Mmm.  If I had one of those… no one would be able to stop me."

"Yeah," Ron said dreamily.  "I'd be a human wall.  I'd fly between the goalposts so fast I'd be nothing but a blur.  With a Firebolt I think even Neville could play Seeker."

"At least most of the others are in the same boat as us," said Ginny.  "A lot of people don't have their own broomstick."  It was true.  Broomsticks were expensive no matter what the brand.  A Firebolt was an extravagance that none of the Weasleys could even fathom.

The faraway look in Ron's eyes vanished.  "Paul Kirkland's got a Zephyr," he said morosely.  "Popular opinion says he's pretty good."

"He's a second year," said Ginny.  "You've been playing longer than he has."

"That's true," said Ron, perking up a bit.

Ginny thought it felt odd to be making Ron feel better instead of it being the other way around.  She had never expected that she would be more self-confident than he when it came to Quidditch.  Boys were full of bravado, and her brothers were no exception.  She'd heard Ron talk about what a great Keeper he was dozens of times, but that had always been at home during a friendly game.  Her brothers had done some playful, deprecating teasing, but in the end they were always pumping each other up.  To hear the Weasley boys tell it, the twins were the best Beaters in the world, Charlie was the best Seeker in the world, and Ron was the best Keeper in the world.  And here Ginny was, walking to the big tryout with Ron, who was about as nervous as she'd ever seen him.  

Ginny thought she understood where some of Ron's anxiety was coming from.  Ron and Bill were the brothers she felt closest to; Ron was only one year older than she and as the twins' younger siblings, they had both been subject to their merciless teasing and pranks.  That alone was enough to bring them closer together.  For his part, Ron confided in Ginny more than anyone else in the family.  Ginny knew things about him that no one else did.  She knew that he felt he'd never live up to the standards that had been set by his brothers.  "They're all good at something," he'd said.  "Bill's the handsome one and the oldest besides.  Charlie's the athletic one; first he's a brilliant Seeker, and now he works with dragons.  Percy's the smart one, and Fred and George are the funny, creative ones.  Mum and Dad can't control them for anything.  And you're the only girl, Gin, so that puts you in a class all by yourself.  So where does that leave _me_?  Which one am I?"  Ginny didn't think that being the only female Weasley child was what really made her special, but she had to admit that she wasn't living under the same set of expectations that Ron was.  Their parents still _had_ expectations for her – high ones – but as the first girl, she was blazing her own trail.

On top of everything else their older brothers had done, they had also played Quidditch for the Gryffindor team – everyone except Percy.  Ginny knew that today Ron wouldn't be thinking about the fact that Bill was handsome or the twins were clever; he was surely thinking about being the first Weasley son not to make the team (Percy hadn't tried, so he didn't count).  She didn't think Ron knew it, but she worried about the same thing, although not for the same reason.  Bill had encouraged her to excel at Quidditch but no one else in the family had, and this irked her more than a little bit.  It wasn't that they thought she couldn't make it onto the house team; they just didn't think about it.  Everyone always assumed that the boys would play.  It wasn't disapproval Ginny feared if she failed to make the team – it was dismissal.  She was just as good at Quidditch as her brothers, and she wanted to prove it.

Ginny opened her mouth to let her feelings come spilling out, but Ron spoke while she was still drawing breath.  "I practiced with Harry last night," he said.  "He says he thinks I'm in the running."

Ginny blinked.  _Of course – Harry!_  She had forgotten all about him.  Harry, so perfect in the Seeker position, zipping around the field on his Firebolt, winning honor for Gryffindor.  Ginny remembered how thrilled Ron had sounded in his first letter home from Hogwarts, telling her and their parents how he'd made it into Gryffindor and he was quickly becoming Harry Potter's best friend.  Mum and Dad had been impressed, though they hadn't said so to Ron.  The entire wizarding world was in awe of the Boy Who Lived.  No one had expected that famous Harry Potter would pick a poor Weasley for a best friend.  As far as Ginny could tell he'd been as true a friend as Ron could ask for, but eventually her brother had begun to show signs of jealousy.

Then there was the big fight Harry and Ron had had last year.  Ron had come to Ginny more than once to gripe about how unreasonable Harry was.  One late night when he was particularly hot under the collar, he had paced around the empty common room and fumed while Ginny sat quietly and listened.  "It's not fair!" he'd shouted.  "If Harry'd found a way to get across that age line, he should've told me about it!  Why should he always get to have all the glory?  Doesn't he think that anyone else should get the chance to win?  He's got everything, Gin!  He's famous.  He's got an escaped convict for a godfather, which isn't good for Sirius, I guess, but it's still cool.  He got to be Seeker in _first year_!  He's had three showdowns with You-Know-Who, and he won the first one when he was a baby!  He's even better at _Potions_ than I am!"

_Not much, _Ginny had thought, but she'd kept her mouth shut.

"And the worst thing is that he's so damn _humble_ about it all!" Ron had finished.

As she walked along beside Ron, Ginny couldn't decide whose shadow Ron was in more – his brothers' or Harry's.  Either would be enough to overcome by itself.  Ron was laboring under both.

They had reached the stadium with the rest of the hopefuls.  The regular Gryffindor team was up in the air having a quick practice.  Ginny could see Fred and George swinging their bats, making the Bludgers zing back and forth between them.  Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were swarming about like bees, passing the Quaffle to each other and tossing it at the hoops.  Harry was in their way, acting as Keeper.  As Ginny and Ron watched, Alicia passed to Katie who zipped off to Harry's left and tossed the Quaffle toward a hoop.  Harry stretched out his right hand, missed the Quaffle by a mile and nearly lost his balance.  By the time he regained it Katie was coming at him again, this time flying beneath him and throwing the red ball up through the hoop behind his back.

"What was that you were saying about Neville being able to fly if he had a Firebolt?" Ginny giggled.

"I take it back," said Ron.  "I guess the broom _doesn't_ make the flier.  He's a _pathetic _Keeper!"

Ginny smiled at Ron, but he didn't notice.  He was too busy laughing at Harry who had just suffered another miss.  _See, Ron?_ she thought._  He's NOT perfect.  Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and show him how it's done!_  "You'll be great," she said aloud.  Ron looked over at her and smiled gratefully.

"Good morning," said Angelina, drifting down toward the pitch on her broomstick.  "Welcome to the Gryffindor House Team tryouts.  First of all I'd like to remind you that only second years and up may try out.  First years will have to wait until next year."  The rest of the team landed behind her and dismounted.  "Okay.  Everyone who's eligible, divide up into groups.  Chasers go to Alicia, Seekers to Harry, Beaters to Fred –"

"I'm George!" said Fred, winking cheekily at Angelina.

"To _Fred,_" Angelina repeated firmly, but she was smiling.  "And Keepers come stand by me."

"Good luck, Gin," said Ron.

"You too," said Ginny.

They went their separate ways.  The butterflies in Ginny's stomach seemed to be rioting.  She found herself standing in a large group of other nervous-looking Gryffindors, all shifting their feet and holding onto their brooms tightly.  Ginny's nerves calmed a bit when she saw that even Seamus looked uneasy.

"Right," said Angelina.  "Here's how this is going to work.  We're going to have Chaser, Beater, and Keeper tryouts all at the same time –"

"What are _they _doing here?"  Winifred Bixby, a third year, was pointing up into the stands.

"Slytherins!" Alicia growled.  Sure enough, a group of their archrivals had gathered above.  Draco Malfoy was easily recognizable with his white-blond hair.  He and his friends were laughing and pointing at the Gryffindors below.

"What a pathetic bunch of duffers!" Malfoy called.  "Oh, look, there's _two_ Weasleys trying out.  Now we know they're desperate!"

It wasn't one of Malfoy's better insults.  Ginny rolled her eyes and turned up her nose, deciding that it wasn't worth dignifying with more of a response.  Fred, George, and Ron gave Malfoy their hardest glares.  Ginny knew that it was for her benefit and not theirs; none of them ever missed the opportunity to play the role of big brother when they felt it was warranted.

"Professor McGonagall _told_ them to keep out of this!" Angelina said darkly as she mounted her broom and soared up to confront the Slytherins.

"Awww, look at the weeny little Seekers!" said Malfoy, making his voice unnaturally high.  "Watch out, Potty.  Those three are so small they'll be blown to France by my wake."  Ginny looked over at the students who were trying out for Seeker.  They were all second years and obviously still thin-skinned when it came to nasty comments from Slytherin.  All three of them turned bright red and dropped their eyes.

Harry saw their reaction and turned a venomous glare on the Slytherins.  "I don't think a two time loser like you has any room to boast, Malfoy," he shouted back.

"Oooooo!" several of the Gryffindors said, and others clapped appreciatively.  Harry's Seekers laughed nervously, seeming a little less embarrassed.  Harry looked down at them and nodded in satisfaction.

A smile grew on Ginny's lips.  _That's sweet of him to stand up for them,_ she thought.  _He really can be very noble.  I can see why that would bother Ron sometimes.  _Suddenly Harry looked right at her and saw her smiling at him.  He flashed her a grin of his own and she felt her face go bright red.  She jerked her gaze up to the stands where Angelina who was telling Malfoy off.  She fervently hoped that Harry hadn't seen her blush.

Come to think of it, Harry bothered her sometimes, too.  Ginny had worked very hard at getting over her schoolgirl crush, but the vestiges still lingered.  Harry had the uncanny ability to make her trip over her own tongue, turn red, and otherwise feel the fool, and it was very frustrating.  Her brothers no longer teased her about him, so she must have gotten better at hiding it.  Still, it was far too easy for Harry to make her act like an idiot.  The fact that he didn't know he was doing it made Ginny feel annoyed and relieved at the same time. 

"…before I hex you back to the Stone Age!" Angelina said, and the Slytherins finally got going though they took their time about it.  Ginny risked a glance back at Harry.  He was giving his Seekers a pep talk; their faces were now determined, and they were nodding as he spoke.  Ginny looked away, not wanting Harry to catch her watching him again.

"As I was saying," Angelina said as she landed again, "we'll be trying out several positions at once.  Don't worry about the Seekers; Harry is handling them separately.  One Keeper will play at the hoops, one Beater will play with Fred… or George, whichever –"

"Hey!" said George, and everybody laughed.

"- and one Chaser will play with Alicia and Katie.  We'll take it easy on you," she said when everyone paled.  "Depending on how we think you're doing, we may ramp it up a bit.  So everyone play your best and have fun."  Angelina pulled a scroll of parchment from within her robes and unrolled it.  "You'll be going in alphabetical order.  Quincy Arlington, you're first on Chaser."

Quincy, who was a boy in Ginny's year, sighed nervously and strode forward.  "It's a good day to be a Weasley, isn't it?" he said to Ginny as he passed her.  She grinned at him.

A Beater and a Keeper were called, and the rest of the students sat down to watch.  Ginny kept a close eye on the Chasers as student after student took their turn.  Seamus Finnigan was undeniably good; based on the others she'd seen, he was a shoo-in.  There were more who seemed competent, but not so much so that Ginny didn't have a chance.

When Ron's name was called for Keeper, he went as white as a sheet.  He stood up and mounted his broom, all the while looking as if he were going to be sick.  _You can do it, Ron,_ thought Ginny.  _Don't start second-guessing yourself now!_  Ron kicked off from the ground and maneuvered himself into position at the hoops.  The new Chaser and Beater took their positions, Alicia tossed the Quaffle to Katie, and off they went.

Alicia and Katie were generally letting the tryout Chasers take the first shots at the goal and this time was no exception.  The Chaser, a third year boy Ginny didn't know well, awkwardly tossed the Quaffle toward the center goal, and Ron easily caught it.  Ginny wanted to cheer.  After the second and third catch Ron's face had lost its pallor but he still wasn't smiling.  He blocked every shot taken by the Chaser, and then Alicia and Katie started taking shots to really test him.  Ginny thought he still looked a little wooden; out of five attempts by the girls, he stopped three.

"Good job, Ron!" Ginny said enthusiastically as he walked back to the group of watching students.

"Yeah," he said uncertainly.  "Thanks."

Ginny frowned at him.  "What's the matter?  You were great!"

"I guess," he said.  "I didn't stop them all, though."

"Neither has anyone else," Ginny pointed out.  "Don't forget that you were up against Katie and Alicia!  They're really good, Ron, no one expected you to block all their shots."

Ron shrugged.  "Well, I guess we'll see."

Ginny was exasperated.  He'd done so well, and he felt no self-confidence whatsoever?

"Ginny Weasley!" called Angelina.

Ginny's stomach flip-flopped.  She mechanically bent down, picked up her broom and headed for Angelina.  "Good luck," said Ron from behind her.  At Angelina's direction, Ginny mounted her broom and flew up to join Alicia and Katie.

The stadium looked so different from the air!  The watching students below were small and insignificant while the goalposts now loomed ominously before her.  Looking down at the stands, they somehow seemed less important, too.  It was a good thing Ginny wasn't afraid of heights.  No game she'd played at home had ever been this far up.  The richly green field seemed to be a mile away.

"Ready, Ginny?" said Alicia.  Ginny nodded.  "Then let's go!"  Alicia tossed the Quaffle to Katie, and the three Chasers flew forward together.

The moment she started to move Ginny felt better.  She loved flying; nothing in the world compared to soaring through the sky on a sunny day with the wind in her hair.  Every one of her senses was heightened.  She could smell the freshly cut grass below.  She heard the crack of the bats on the hard, black Bludgers.  Katie tossed her the Quaffle and she caught it easily, feeling the bumps in the red leather.  Ginny tucked the ball under her arm and leaned forward on her broomstick to put on speed.  The tryout Keeper at the goalposts was weaving back and forth, ready to move in whatever direction she moved.  She swerved left, the Keeper followed, and she jerked her broom back to the right and darted forward.  She gripped the Quaffle and tossed it easily through the center hoop.

"Nice shot!" said Alicia, and Ginny beamed back at her.

Not all of Ginny's attempts went in – the Keeper wasn't half bad – but she more than kept up with Katie and Alicia.  The two veteran Chasers made their passes a little more complicated each time, and Ginny kept on her toes, never missing when the Quaffle was tossed her way.  When she took her final shot and it sailed through the right hoop, the students watching on the ground actually clapped.  The Keeper shrugged and grinned.  "More than a match for me," he said.

"Very well done," said Katie, sounding impressed.

"Yes – great job," said Alicia, smiling at Ginny, who smiled right back.  Her heart was so light, she thought she could fly even without her broomstick.  The tryout had gone beautifully.  There was no way she wouldn't get a spot on the reserve team.  As she descended back to the ground she saw Harry watching her with a look of approval on his face.  Ginny felt her face go red all over again.  _Darn that Potter!_ she thought.  _When did he finish up with the Seekers?  Was he watching me the whole time?  Well, if he was, thank goodness I didn't know.  I would have given the sorriest performance of anyone._

"Well, that's it," said Angelina, who looked and sounded tired.  "Great job, everyone.  We'll have the new team members posted in the common room tomorrow morning."

And with that the tryouts were over.  Ginny quickly found Ron who was standing with Seamus.  Both of them congratulated her on a job well done.  Ron didn't seem to want to talk, so Ginny left him with Seamus and headed back to the castle, all the way being hailed by other Gryffindors who told her what a great tryout she'd had.  _Sheesh,_ she thought.  _If I'm not careful I'll get a big head from all this._

The rest of Ginny's day was quiet and uneventful, which was just the way she wanted it.  She finished her History of Magic homework and practiced Transfiguring a quill into a hairbrush.  She played Exploding Snap with her friends Louisa and Judy, wrote a letter to Bill, and helped Neville find his toad, Trevor.  She didn't want to think about the tryouts; even though she thought she had cause for cheer, the waiting was still excruciating.

If it hadn't been for Ron Ginny might have been able to forget about Quidditch entirely.  Every time she saw him he looked a little glummer.  By dinnertime he was telling anyone who would listen that he'd been the worst Keeper in the bunch.  Poor Hermione was distressed, Harry refused to give any hints as to the team's decision, and the rest of Ron's friends were getting sick of his bellyaching.  When Ginny finally sank into her pillow that night it was with a sense of relief.  At least the whole thing would be over in a few hours.  Not only would she know how her own tryout had gone, but Ron would shut up about them whatever the outcome.

Ginny felt as if she had only just closed her eyes when a loud whoop sounded from somewhere outside her room.  "Wha?" said Louisa, sitting up in her four-poster.

"Yes!" came a distant shout.  "I made it!"

"The tryout results!" cried Judy, leaping from her bed and pulling on her dressing gown.  Ginny followed suit and hurried out of the dormitory after her friend.  They weren't the only ones who had been awakened; other girls who had tried out were on the stairs down to the common room.

When Ginny reached the message board there were already a dozen students in front of it searching for their names.  One of them gave a shout of glee; most of the rest sighed in disappointment and moved out of the way.  Ginny stepped forward eagerly, craning her neck, and George jumped in front of her.

"Morning, Gin!" he said good-naturedly.

"George, you awful… get out of the way!" said Ginny.  She stepped to the left and he moved to block her view.  She stepped to the right and he followed her again.

"Something of interest to you back there?" he teased.

"You git!" she laughed.  "Move it or I'll sic Fred on you!"

"It was _Fred's_ idea," said George, but when the students behind Ginny began shouting at him, he finally moved away.

Ginny's eyes swept the list of new reserve team members.  _Beater: Barron Fidemont, Leonard Fidemont.  Chaser: Judy Fairbanks, Seamus Finnigan, Ginny Weasley._

Ginny and Judy squealed with pure joy at exactly the same time.  They looked at each other, faces alight, and hugged enthusiastically while bouncing up and down on their toes.  The students around them offered their congratulations, and Ginny, feeling a bit embarrassed, calmed down enough to thank them.

George gave Ginny a celebratory bear hug.  "Look at the other list," he advised her.  Ginny looked up at the parchment that was pinned next to the first.  It bore three words only.

_Keeper: Ron Weasley._

Ginny gasped and George grinned.  "He made it!" she exclaimed.  She saw Harry and Hermione standing at the edge of the group and hurried over to them.  "He made it!" she exclaimed again.

"So did you," said Hermione.  "Well done!"

"Oh, I'm so excited!" she said, hugging Hermione and then throwing her arms around Harry's neck in turn.  As soon as she realized what she'd done she let go as if she'd touched a hot stove, blushing furiously.  _His hair smelled nice,_ she thought fleetingly.

"Where is Ron?" said Hermione, looking around.

"Asleep," Harry said quickly.  Ginny glanced at him.  He sounded flustered.

"What?" said Fred, who had joined them.  "The entire House is up, and he doesn't want to see if he made the cut?"

"He's got himself convinced that he didn't," said Harry.  Was it Ginny's imagination or was he looking at everybody except her?

"Stupid git," said George.  He and Fred marched off, voicing their intent to bring Ron downstairs forthwith.  They pounded up the staircase, making as much noise as possible, and reappeared moments later with Ron imprisoned between them.  Ron was protesting miserably but the twins were implacable.

Ginny couldn't stand to see Ron downcast for one moment more.  Harry and Hermione must have felt the same way, because they shouted, "CONGRATULATIONS, RON!" along with Ginny.

Ron stared at the parchment in disbelief.  "I _made the team_?" he stammered.  His shock was soon replaced by exhilaration and he began shaking hands with everyone in sight.  Fred pounded him on the back and called him by his least favorite nickname – Ickle Ronniekins – and Ron didn't even seem to mind.

"Every Weasley sibling has made the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" crowed George.  "Well, except for Percy, the puffed-up dunderhead."

Ginny was feeling so elated that she could manage little more than a half-hearted criticism of George for his putdown.  Her brother's words rang in her head.  Every Weasley sibling.  As a general celebration began in the Gryffindor common room, Ginny felt a sense of vindication.  She might be the only Weasley girl, but when it came to Quidditch, she was just another one of the boys.


	7. To Tell the Truth: Ardoc Bellaton

**A/N: **I haven't updated this story in quite a while, but obviously I haven't forgotten it!  I still have several other scenes that I would like to write, some of which I have started on.  If you're keeping track, this scene is chronologically out of order.  It should come before Hermione's vignette (Rogue Thoughts).  After I've posted another chapter or two I will probably rearrange them so that this one is in the proper place.

capncrunchnotthecereal: Yeah, that was the whole point – no one thinks Ginny's the type.  Her own family doesn't think so (except for Bill).  I do think that as the only girl she would have her own set of problems, just as Ron has his because he has so much to live up to.

Rob: Thanks!  I really was trying to make a point about the similarities between Ron and Ginny (see previous comment).

PhoenixTearsp322: What does Harry's hair smell like?  A nice shampoo, I suppose.  I love the way my husband's hair smells when it's been recently washed.  Hope to see your return to the review page someday soon!  Good luck with your archiving!  Oh, and I'm doing some revising of Guardians, so I'll have to let you know when that gets done in case you want to archive it.  I'd want you to have the best version.

Seven: To Tell the Truth (Ardoc Bellaton)

Ardoc Bellaton thrust his hands into the dark soil of the flowerbed and began to dig.  He much preferred using his own hands to a trowel for digging holes; he loved the feel of the rich, damp earth between his fingers.  He reveled in the smell of it, wet or dry.  With a good patch of earth he could work wonders.  Far too many people underestimated plants, in his opinion.  They were fascinating things, amazing in their resilience, beauty, and variety.  Good dirt, water, and sunlight were all they needed to thrive.

For Ardoc, working in a garden was therapeutic.  He spent long hours in the solarium every day tending the growing things there, especially the orchids.  Such hard work was usually indicative of a Hufflepuff, and the Sorting Hat had indeed considered putting him there.  It had settled on Gryffindor in the end, but Ardoc had always thought he would have been just as well placed in the other House.  He suspected that he and Helen Sprout were going to get along famously when he arrived at Hogwarts.

Ardoc reached over and pulled a stargazer lily from its pot.  Lilies usually bloomed only in the spring and early summer, but as any magical gardener knew, they could be encouraged to flower a bit longer.  Even with his level of skill Ardoc couldn't save the flowers from the harsh July sun, so he was moving them indoors.

_You're only ignoring what has to be done,_ he told himself as he carefully placed the bulb into the earth and pushed some soil atop it.  _You should find Celeste.  She's probably telling them right this minute._  Celeste had asked him to let her break the news first, but he still felt that he should help absorb the blow.  The decision to withhold information had been his in the first place and confrontation seldom bothered him.

Ardoc had never really cared what other people thought of him.  Somehow their judgments rolled right off him like water off an oil slick.  Even when he was younger he hadn't been bothered by the gossip and backbiting that accompanied young adulthood.  Perhaps it had something to do with his size; he had always been big compared to his peers, no matter what his age.  He had certainly never been a bully – his parents had raised him better than that – but when you were bigger than most of the other kids, no one pestered you quite as much.

Besides the fact that Ardoc didn't care two knuts for others' opinions of him, he was also well liked and had been so all his life.  He had a big smile to match his oversized frame and dark eyes that twinkled with mirth.  People seemed to trust him implicitly even when they had only just met him.  Ardoc had always had a reputation for being open and honest, and he often found it ironic that he harbored a secret that would send all those trusting people running for cover.

Ardoc didn't have a problem with being a Singer; it was the rest of the world that would undoubtedly have a problem with him.  Yet he never feared telling people about his talent.  He figured that anyone who condemned him for something he was born with wasn't worth knowing anyway.  Unfortunately, he was now faced with the prospect of telling Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Harry Potter the big secret, and he wasn't sure how they'd react.  Ardoc had no worries about Harry's reaction.  He'd grown up with Muggles, and unless the subject of Singers had come up in a class or in conversation – both of which were unlikely – then he probably knew little or nothing about them.  People who had no pre-existing prejudice toward Singers were far less likely to shun them.  Lupin would probably understand, too; he was a werewolf, after all, and just as much an outcast as Singers were.  Sirius, on the other hand, was far less predictable.  He had a temper like quicksilver and was extremely protective of Harry.  It was impossible to tell what he'd do once the cat was out of the bag.  Ardoc could only hope that Sirius would keep his head and judge them based on what he already knew of them.  Ardoc wasn't afraid of telling Sirius the truth, but he didn't want to lose the other man's nascent friendship over a matter that, in the end, was really quite trivial.

Of course, there was more than the loss of a friendship that was at stake.  Celeste was now Harry's guardian, sealed with a magical bond, and if Sirius disapproved of her talent, he might demand that she break that bond.  Lately Ardoc had begun to doubt his decision to keep the three newcomers in the dark about his and Celeste's abilities.  She had wanted to make it known from the start, giving them the benefit of the doubt, but Ardoc had worried that if they others knew they would be rejected out of hand.  This was not a risk he had been willing to take.  Dumbledore wanted Singers at Hogwarts to protect both the student body and Harry individually.  If Harry, Sirius, or Lupin had refused to give the Singers a chance, then Harry would either end up with a less qualified guardian or none at all.  Now that he had gotten to know the three of them, though, Ardoc felt that Celeste had been right.  He had underestimated their characters, and now they would probably be hurt and offended.  Well, Sirius might be, anyway.

Ardoc did not believe that the phrase "Jack of all trades, master of none" had any merit whatsoever.  He felt that he and Celeste were uniquely qualified to be guardians, more so than any other teacher at Hogwarts.  Besides being Singers, which was something of a secret weapon, they were both able to fight with more than just spells.  Ardoc's father had taught him to fence when he was young, and as he grew he learned swordplay and how to use a quarterstaff.  "Always have a second line of defense," his father had used to say.  This was sage advice.  Too many witches and wizards depended on their wands to protect them, but wands could be easily broken or taken.  According to Dumbledore, few of the other teachers had any experience whatsoever in physical combat.  Ardoc knew that the headmaster, Minerva McGonagall, and Severus Snape had all trained at one time or another, but none of them could possibly serve as a guardian.  Albus and Minerva were no longer young and had all-consuming jobs already, and Severus loathed Harry.  Ardoc had to chuckle at the thought of the Potions master and Harry being in each other's heads.

It was Dumbledore who had suggested that Celeste become Harry's guardian, not only due to her abilities but because as the History of Magic teacher and a woman, she'd never be suspected.  If anyone thought Dumbledore was taking steps to shield Harry, they would look to Ardoc first.  He was new to the school, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and a man.  He couldn't fathom why, but the magical community still assumed that men were more skilled at defense and battle than women.  The need for that second line of defense notwithstanding, Ardoc thought that wands were a tremendous equalizer.  Men were physically stronger, it was true, but skill in a magical battle usually only required intelligence and quick wits, not brawn.  Most of the fighting between witches and wizards took the form of curses, jinxes, and hexes.  Ardoc could only suppose that traditions from an old way of life were yet permeating their thinking.  In most early societies, men had been the warriors, which made good sense.  After all, burly men with spears were better equipped than women to fight of wild boars and such.

If there was ever a woman who was making herself into a warrior, it was Celeste.  Ardoc was prodigiously proud of her; he had taught her how to use a quarterstaff himself, and he no longer knew which of them wielded it with more skill.  She'd become quite proficient with small, lightweight weapons, and the only ones she couldn't use were the heavy ones such as axes and broadswords.  She didn't have Ardoc's thick arms and therefore couldn't lift some of those blades, but it didn't matter.  Ardoc couldn't imagine any scenario in which she'd be required to heft a weapon of that sort.  The use of broadswords and axes was utterly archaic in both the magical and Muggle worlds; wizards had wands and Muggles had guns.

Ardoc and Celeste had been friends ever since her parents had died and Dumbledore had taken her under his wing.  Their discovery of their mutual talent had only tightened the bond.  She could never replace the family Ardoc had lost, but she was like a sister to him, discovered long after his childhood had ended.  Years of companionship and training had made them well attuned to each other.  Ardoc could read Celeste like a book, and lately there were two things that were bothering her.  The first was her impending revelation to Harry.  Where Ardoc was only uncertain, she was almost afraid.  He didn't think that the others could tell – she could be stone when she wished – but he knew.  There had been times in the past when things had gone badly and she thought she had failed Dumbledore's trust.  She had been almost inconsolable afterwards, although Ardoc thought she had since moved past those difficulties.  Now she seemed to be ascribing the same level of dedication to Harry that she did to Dumbledore, which meant that she took her responsibilities very seriously.  Ardoc shook his head as he thought about it; she could be single-minded to a fault.

Harry wasn't the only thing that was bothering Celeste.  There was something else going on behind her eyes, and Ardoc thought he knew what it was.  Sirius and Harry were oblivious, but she and Lupin were looking at each other a little too often.  Even before Lupin had used the word "pretty" to describe her in her hearing, she had seemed fascinated by him.  Ardoc wasn't really surprised.  He had wondered if she might see something in one of their new friends, and his money had been on Lupin.  Sirius was certainly more brash and adventurous, but Lupin was more her type – quiet and pensive.  Even with his graying hair and tired eyes, he was still a handsome enough bloke.  Ardoc could tell that both of them were trying not to stare at the other too much, but they seemed to be losing the fight.  Now he just wondered when they would finally admit their mutual attraction.  Knowing Celeste, it might be a while.  She was going to put her new duties first, and romance would be a distraction.

Ardoc thought he understood the way it felt to reach a certain age and have no prospects for love.  While at Hogwarts he had been popular among the female students, and he had never lacked a date to Hogsmeade or a dance if he'd wanted one.  But that had been a long time ago; the discovery of his talent had put a definite crimp in Ardoc's social life.  He had spent most of the last several years away from the rest of society with little or no chance of meeting anyone.  But even if this hadn't been the case, the general prejudice against Singers was so strong that he wouldn't have dared to reveal his secret to anyone.  Ardoc believed that at some point, every man wanted a lifelong companion.  Celeste was as true a friend as he could ask for, but she wasn't a romantic companion.  Still, he was grateful for what he had.  Knowing who he was, he could easily have been completely alone and friendless.

With the last of the lilies in place, Ardoc stood up and brushed the dirt off his hands.  The smell of earth was invigorating, but it always left him thirsty.  It was late afternoon, which meant that tea was probably available in the breakfast room.

As he approached his destination, Ardoc heard Harry's voice.  "So what can you do?"

"There are some spells that can't be spoken.  They are Songs, and only certain people can Sing them.  You have to be born with the ability in order to learn," said Celeste.

_Ah,_ thought Ardoc.  _Just in time._  He walked into the breakfast room and saw Harry, Celeste, Lupin, and Sirius all sitting in a group of chairs.  Just as he had expected, Lupin looked surprised but nonplussed, and Sirius was upset.  Harry merely seemed curious, but he looked puzzled every time he saw his godfather's face.  "Hullo," Ardoc said.  "You won't mind if I join you?"

Sirius shot a glare in his direction, and Ardoc winced internally.  Lupin, however, asked him to sit.

Ardoc took his time about settling himself.  He poured himself a cup of tea, put in his usual additions, stretched out his legs when he sat and sighed contentedly.  For the first time in a long while, he was falsifying an image of calm and good cheer.  "Just what the Healer ordered," he said, acting as if he didn't see Sirius trying to stare Celeste down.  "So you've told them, have you?"

"She told us," Lupin said mildly.

"Sirius, what's wrong with you?" said Harry.  Sirius flushed a bit, perhaps realizing for the first time that he was the only one who was truly upset by the news.

"We're not born evil, you know," Ardoc said easily, taking a sip of his tea.  He refrained from meeting Sirius' accusing eyes, not wanting to get drawn into a staring match.  It was best to keep his manner as offhand and unconcerned as possible.

"What _are_ you talking about?" said Harry impatiently.

Before Sirius could say anything Ardoc had started talking, relating the story of why Singers were so widely feared.  As he finished, Harry nodded slightly in understanding and gave Sirius a critical glance.  Ardoc had to smile inwardly; he had been right about the boy.  He was beginning to think that Harry was rather remarkable in that he was possessed of such a clean heart.  Ardoc had had the misfortune of meeting the Dursleys personally; Dumbledore had sent him there to get another account of how Harry had been poisoned.  Mrs. Dursley had tried to brain Ardoc with a frying pan while he was talking to Mr. Dursley, and he'd been forced to teach them a lesson.  He had immobilized all three of them and cast a silencing charm.  Then, when they could do nothing but listen, he had explained about Voldemort and Harry's involvement.  Even through their terror, Ardoc could tell that the Dursleys were unimpressed.  He didn't understand it.  Parents dreamt about having well-behaved sons like Harry, and those people didn't want him.  Clearly the boy had been kicked around all his life by the Muggliest bunch of Muggles there ever were, and yet he was neither bitter nor jaded.  That was a marvel enough by itself.

"Singers are widely distrusted," said Celeste, looking down into her teacup.  "Few people know what Ardoc and I can do.  Most wouldn't give us the time of day if they did."

Lupin was looking at Sirius like a father looking at a badly-behaved child.  Sirius wilted before the disapproving glances from Harry and Lupin, and a guilty expression crossed his face when he saw Celeste's sad visage.  He sighed and looked down.  "Stop looking at me like that, Remus.  I know you're right.  I'm sorry."  He seemed to struggle with himself; obviously, apologizing was not something that came naturally to him.  Ardoc was surprised to realize that he felt as relieved as Celeste plainly was.  He upgraded his opinion of Sirius.  Any man who had the guts to admit he was wrong – especially when he knew he looked a fool – was someone to be respected.

"I can't help remembering the stories I heard growing up, but I have to admit that I don't think you're any danger to Harry," Sirius continued.  "Why didn't you just tell us sooner?"

_Time for me to make my own apology,_ Ardoc thought.  "That was my call," he said aloud.  "I thought you would refuse our help without even bothering to hear us out if you knew.  Perhaps I should have given you the benefit of the doubt."

"It's all right," said Sirius, waving one hand dismissively.  "I might have done just that."

Ardoc felt himself relax.  It was done.  Celeste had been right – they should have told their guests their secret long ago – but everything was going to be well.  No one was going to demand that Harry get a different guardian.  He took a long drink from his teacup, listening to Celeste attempt to further reassure Sirius.  When she asked Lupin what he was thinking about the revelations, Ardoc looked up with interest.

"I'm a werewolf," Lupin said simply.  I know what it's like to be reviled because of something you can't change."

Ardoc suppressed the grin that threatened to spread across his face.  Lupin couldn't know it, but he was slowly chipping away at Celeste's well-guarded heart.  She already fancied him, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself, and now he had completely accepted her status as a Singer.  He'd even compared it to his own affliction.  The two of them really were kindred spirits.  Ardoc vaguely wondered if Sirius would care to bet on how long it would be before Celeste and Lupin's first kiss.  It seemed to Ardoc that Harry's godfather shared his own boisterous sense of humor.  Sirius would probably think it a fine joke to bet on something like that.  Ardoc certainly did, though Celeste would smack him – hard – if she knew.

"What's a Song like?" Harry asked.

Ardoc and Celeste looked at each other and Ardoc smiled inwardly.  He should have expected Harry to be curious.  He replied that he was planning to grow a Bristlebark tree in a few days' time, and Harry responded with interest although he still looked confused.  It wasn't Ardoc's intention to make him wait, but he had other plants to attend to first.  Besides, Dumbledore was attempting to bring Harry's two best friends to Alverbrooke.  Sirius and Lupin had made it plain that Harry kept almost nothing back from Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, so they would surely be learning that Ardoc and Celeste were Singers.  Perhaps they could all listen to the spell together, and Ardoc could kill several birds with one stone.

A great deal of soot suddenly came rushing out of the fireplace and Dumbledore appeared amidst the black cloud.  Harry's whole face lit up when his friends' visit was confirmed.  As soon as Dumbledore turned away from him to address the adults, Harry's expression became more introspective.  Ardoc strongly suspected that his thoughts were already off of Singers and back on his friends.  Harry's world had not been shaken by Ardoc's and Celeste's revelations, and he had no idea just how difficult it had really been for them.  It was kind of funny, Ardoc realized; Harry was the Boy Who Lived, alter ego of Voldemort, and yet in some ways his life was simpler than Ardoc's.

Dumbledore was giving an update on the efforts to restore Hogsmeade.  Ardoc listened although he was tempted to drift a few miles away, like Harry.  Now that the Big Secret had been revealed he felt perfectly at ease.  He was glad that he had been wrong about Sirius and Lupin.  It seemed like ages since he had been forced to reveal his talents to anyone, but it had been even longer since he had forged any new friendships.  Ardoc suddenly realized that he hadn't managed to dislodge the foundations of camaraderie despite his bungling.  That, more than anything else so far, made him respect the newcomers.

_Well, what is friendship, but a bond based upon mutual respect?_ thought Ardoc.  _In any case it'll be nice to have someone around other than Celeste, the house-elves, and the plants.  _He looked over at his fellow Singer and caught her glancing surreptitiously in Lupin's direction.  _Yes,_ thought Ardoc, grinning to himself.  _I'll have to ask Sirius if he's a betting sort of man._


	8. A Woman Scorned: Cho Chang

**A/N: **Just a quick note to say that from now on, author notes will appear at the end of each chapter.

Eight: A Woman Scorned (Cho Chang)

The Ravenclaw Quidditch team was uncharacteristically solemn as they listened to the sounds of students filling the stands above them. Amid the dull rumble of hundreds of feet, Roger Davies, Chaser and team captain, was repeating the strategy he'd worked out for the match against Gryffindor. No one seemed to be paying much attention. Marty Greer and Philip West, the Beaters, were inspecting their clubs for cracks. Amy Spickman, the Keeper, was straightening the twigs of her broomstick, and the other two Chasers were adjusting their protective padding. Cho Chang wasn't listening to Roger any more than the others were. Like most Ravenclaws, she thought strategy was key in these situations, but she already knew the plan by heart and Roger had not made any changes. Besides, her thoughts were elsewhere on this crisp fall morning.

_Harry Potter._ Cho grimaced and tugged her gauntlets a little tighter. _Stop thinking about him and focus on the match!_ she thought angrily. She should have known better than to try and talk with him right before the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game. Even if things hadn't gone as badly as they had, there was no way that she could have remained unaffected. She should have waited.

Things hadn't gone at all as she had planned the night before. She'd thought she was in better control of her emotions after four months. All she had wanted was to talk to Harry, which had seemed harmless enough. He was the only person who could possibly have any idea of what she was suffering in Cedric's absence. Harry hadn't been friends with Cedric, but he had seen him die, and Cho knew that that meant something to him. She had watched his face in the days following the tragedy, and he had been solemn and withdrawn. He cared that Cedric had died, and he hadn't tried to conceal it with the false bravado that so many boys seemed to find necessary.

Cho felt the sting of salt in her eyes when she thought of Cedric. For the millionth time that year, she silently questioned, _why?_ Why had Cedric had to die? He'd done nothing, nothing at all to deserve his fate. He'd been so wonderful, so sweet and kind, so attentive to her. Cho knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help feeling that it would have been more just if one of the other Triwizard champions had taken the Cup with Harry. Like that horrible Viktor Krum, who was always scowling and slouching around. His headmaster had been a Death Eater, and Krum had been his favorite student, hadn't he? Or snotty Fleur Delacour, who flounced around Hogwarts as if she owned it, making every boy drool into his morning porridge. Neither of them had had even half as many good qualities as Cedric.

Even though she missed Cedric terribly, Cho had found that she still had a place in her heart for Harry, too. She had so desperately wanted to tell him that she didn't blame him for what had happened. She had been certain that he thought she hated him since she had not only turned down his invitation to the Yule Ball but that he had survived the meeting with You-Know-Who… and Cedric had not. In truth, she was very sorry to have had to reject Harry last Christmas. She had been flattered beyond all measure that the Boy Who Lived had wanted her to go to the dance with him, especially when he could have had the pick of any girl in the school. If Cedric hadn't asked her first, she would have said yes. Harry wasn't as handsome as Cedric had been – few boys were – but in many other ways, he was a lot like Cedric. He was thoughtful, polite, not at all arrogant, and just… nice.

But last night Cho had been bitterly disappointed. Harry had been uncomfortable when she brought up the subject of Cedric and not nearly as supportive as she'd been hoping. She knew that it probably had something to do with the fact that he had asked her out only to discover that Cedric was her boyfriend, but she still thought that he should have realized that she just needed someone to talk to. He had been so confusing! First he'd looked as if he wanted to run away and then he'd been concerned. He'd said that she looked tired, which Cho had found oddly crushing, but then he'd said that she was one of the prettiest girls in the school…

_One of the prettiest girls._ Cho smiled briefly at the memory. He'd blushed when he'd said it, too, so she knew he'd been sincere. She had been so sure that he was going to make a move, but then…

Cho's smile faded away. Harry wasn't blind; he had picked up on her flirting. The problem was that he hadn't wanted to kiss her, and Cho couldn't understand that. She had been so sure that Harry liked her, certain that he'd want to start something now that she'd so clearly given him the go-ahead. Her friends had all been certain, too; they said everyone knew that Harry had a crush on her.

So why was he jerking her around like this?

Cho felt her face flush. She tugged irritably at one of her shin guards to hide her reddening face. His quiet rejection of her offer had been humiliating beyond all measure. At that moment she had felt as if he had taken her heart and smashed it with one hand. She had immediately felt both acute disappointment and hot anger at the same time. She didn't understand. He'd been sending out all the signals! What had she done wrong? Had her face gone all blotchy? Had he stopped liking her somehow? Had she been stupid to bring up Cedric in the first place?

Or was it possible that Harry Potter was just a big jerk?

Cho felt inclined to attribute the debacle to this last reason. A little voice in her head told her that this wasn't reasonable and very unlike a Ravenclaw, but she quashed it. He shouldn't have embarrassed her. He should have been more sensitive to her feelings. He shouldn't have said one thing and then behaved as if he hadn't meant what he had said.

Cho had no intention of letting Harry Potter catch the Snitch today.

"Are you all right?" Cho blinked at the sound of Luna Lovegood's dreamy voice beside her. "If you pull that shin guard any tighter your leg will start turning blue."

Cho blushed and stopped pulling at her equipment. "I'm fine, thanks." Luna smiled vaguely and turned her attention back to her own elbow pads. Luna's dreaminess fooled a lot of people at Hogwarts, but not anyone on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Cho knew that Luna was not as dissociated as most people thought she was, and that she saw things much more clearly than she was given credit for. Cho silently chided herself for wearing her emotions so plainly on her sleeve. She had to turn off her feelings during the match, or she would not be able to be an effective Seeker.

"Right," said Roger, apparently having finished his recap of the team's strategy. "We'd better get up to the gate."

The team stood. Cho picked up her Comet Two Sixty and followed the others out of the changing room. She was reviewing her own strategy in her mind as she walked. Harry was much faster than she on his Firebolt, so she was going to have to keep an extra sharp eye out for the Snitch. More than that, she intended to make him work in this game. No more of this zipping around the stadium on his own terms. She had plans for Harry.

_He could get hurt,_ said a little voice inside Cho's head. _He might run into something. Like the ground, for instance._

Cho frowned. She thought she had buried that little voice. She brushed off her lingering doubts with cool Ravenclaw logic. _The Wronski Feint is a legal move, and Harry won't hit the ground, not when he's riding a Firebolt. I'm not going to let my emotions rule me. I'm just going to get the job done._

The team had reached the gate. Lee Jordan's amplified voice was announcing the Gryffindor team. He always named the teams' Seekers last, and Cho's mouth tightened when the word "POTTER" boomed through the air.

"We've got to win today," Roger said stoutly, mounting his broomstick. "Gryffindor's defeated us twice in a row now."

Everyone looked at Cho. "It's in the bag," she said evenly.

The gate flew open, and the Ravenclaws zoomed out onto the pitch, silver and blue robes waving merrily in the breeze.

"The Ravenclaw team, looking today to defeat Gryffindor for the first time in three matchups!" Lee Jordan thundered. "Davies, Bradley, Lovegood, Spickman, West, Greer, and Chang!"

The Ravenclaws flew a lap around the stadium, basking in the cheers coming from the other students in their House. As soon as the lap was over they took their positions opposite the Gryffindors on the field. Cho swerved into position across from Harry, several feet above the Chasers. For a moment their eyes locked. She stared hard at him, letting some of her anger show. Harry's own face betrayed nothing but determination. _Think you've got this one all sewn up, Harry?_ thought Cho, not caring if she was being unfair, not noticing that her bitter feelings were surfacing again. _Well, think again!_

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and threw the Quaffle in the air.

Cho spontaneously leaned forward on her broom and charged Harry, who dropped out of her way just in the nick of time. She had barely had time to notice the look of shock on his face before she'd passed. For a moment she felt guilty, but she banished the feeling almost as soon as it had come. All the same, she couldn't help giving a quick glance back over her shoulder. Harry had flown away in a different direction, beginning his own search for the Snitch. He was ignoring her entirely. Cho faced forward again, feeling newly determined. She had to focus on the Snitch, not Harry!

Lee's commentary kept Cho abreast of the game as her eyes scoured the air. "…Davies passes to Lovegood, she's heading for the goal!"

"Come on, Luna!" Cho whispered to herself, wishing she could watch her teammates at work. A Seeker could not afford to be distracted by the movement of the Quaffle.

"It's the first test of the new Gryffindor Keeper, Ron Weasley! Lovegood's dodging the Bludgers like mad, she's got an open shot – GREAT SAVE BY WEASLEY!"

Cho took her eyes off the search long enough to see Harry fly past the Gryffindor goalposts and give Ron Weasley a high-five, whooping with delight. To her very great consternation, Amy was not able to stop Gryffindor's first shot at Ravenclaw's goals. "It's Bell in possession of the Quaffle, she passes to Spinnet, Spinnet takes aim – GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Harry pumped his fist in the air once again. By chance he looked in Cho's direction, and she glared at him. He could have no doubt as to how she felt now.

Harry's exuberance and Gryffindor's luck put Cho in a very bad mood. She hadn't meant to unveil her ploy so soon, but feelings of irritation spurred her forward. She looked down at the pitch, fixed a point on the ground in her mind, and dove.

Right on cue, Harry streaked across the field, racing to catch up with Cho. He was astonishingly fast on his Firebolt, but for once, that didn't bother Cho. Where the Wronski Feint was concerned, speed could be a Seeker's worst enemy. She smiled grimly as the ground raced up to meet them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry glance at her face.

At what she thought was the last possible moment, Cho gave an almighty tug on her broomstick and pulled herself out of the dive. A split second later Harry did the same, just barely saving himself from crashing.

"MERLIN'S BEARD, CHANG PULLS OFF THE WRONSKI FEINT!" Lee bellowed. The crowd roared wildly.

Harry was hovering just inches above the ground. He stared at Cho, looking poleaxed. She raised one of her eyebrows and he scowled back at her. The next instant, Cho was soaring off across the stadium, looking for the Snitch once again. That feeling of guilt was inexplicably gnawing at her again. More than anything, she wished it would go away.

Cho soon got her wish. The Ravenclaw team seemed to have been galvanized by her use of the Wronski Feint, and moments later, Joseph Bradley had scored their first goal. Then Luna scored, and the game really got going. The Gryffindors lost their cheerful expressions, seeming to have realized that Ravenclaw was serious about winning the match.

Cho was as proud as she'd ever been of the rest of her teammates. They threw themselves into the game, playing hard and fast, skirting the edge of propriety. Almost anything went in a Quidditch match, but Slytherin was the only House that ever abused the plasticity of the rules. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor generally played civil matches against each other, but Cho was happy to see that her teammates were willing to push the edge of the envelope when it counted. Now was no time to be polite, not if they wanted to win.

For almost an hour, the match stayed nearly tied. When one team scored the other would quickly follow suit, and the gap never widened by more than thirty points. Cho did her best to watch every bit of the stadium at once, but she only caught sight of the Snitch once during that time, and it vanished almost as soon as she noticed it. Fortunately, Harry hadn't caught a break yet, either.

And then, at long last, Ravenclaw began to creep ahead just a little. The Gryffindor Chasers missed three shots in a row while Cho's teammates put all theirs in. The crowd was getting raucous again, excited by the change in fortunes. Cho soared above the middle of the field, looking down at the ground. Sometimes, if the Snitch flew beneath her, she could see the flash of gold against the green grass below.

Suddenly Lee shouted and the crowd screamed, and Cho put her Seeker's reflexes to use. She swerved as hard as she could and leaned forward, struggling to catch up with Harry, who was darting straight for Amy at the Ravenclaw goalposts with his arm outstretched. Panic fluttered in Cho's chest as she laid herself nearly flat against her broomstick, urging it ever faster. If he really had seen the Snitch, then she was dead in the water; he had a headstart, and she'd never be able to catch up. But she had to try.

Harry suddenly flew straight up, out of Cho's field of view. She was so shocked that she followed him upward with her eyes, realizing too late what he had done. She faced forward again only to find herself flying straight into Amy. Cho pulled up, slowing her headlong rush forward, but not soon enough to prevent a collision. Her momentum sent the two of them tumbling away from the goalposts. Cho gripped her broom handle tightly to avoid falling, but it was a near thing. Amy said nothing, but hurtled back to the goalposts as soon as she had disentangled the twigs of her broomstick from Cho's. Lee's commentary told Cho that Angelina Johnson had already put one in. She saw Amy make a desperate grab for the Quaffle that Katie Bell tossed toward the left hoop, but she was too late, and it soared through. The Gryffindors in the stands all cheered madly.

Cho's face flushed with frustration and anger. She wasn't shocked that Harry would turn her own tactics back on her, but at least he hadn't hit anything when she had pulled off a feint!

Another hour passed, and the game began to drag out. The Snitch was proving to be especially elusive, as Cho hardly ever caught a glimpse of it. She had rushed for it more than once, but she had been stopped every time by the Gryffindor Beaters. Harry had nearly caught it, too, but to Cho's relief, the Ravenclaw Beaters had managed to foil him. She and Harry were regularly feinting each other now, and she doubted that the crowd could tell the difference between when they were actually going for the Snitch and when they were just faking. As the third hour passed and Cho pulled her broomstick up out of yet another breakneck dive, she resisted the urge to reach up and massage her aching shoulders. Briefly she wondered if Harry was feeling the physical punishment of the demanding maneuvers, too.

Cho was beginning to worry. If the scores continued to be so close together, then it was really going to be up to the Seekers to determine the outcome of the game. Even if Harry was feeling as tired as she was, he was still on a faster broomstick and that gave him the advantage. Cho knew that she had to spot the Snitch when he was looking the other way, or she would almost certainly lose the contest.

And then, at long last, something happened that turned the tables on the Gryffindor team. Cho was making one of her regular circuits around the stadium, listening to Lee's commentary. "And Gryffindor's back in possession after a lucky save by Weasley! Johnson passes to Spinnet, Spinnet passes to Bell, they're really tearing down the field – WATCH OUT, ALICIA!"

Cho's eyes were involuntarily drawn to the field where a black Bludger made contact with the side of Alicia's head. The crowd gasped and the watching Gryffindors moaned in disappointment. The other Gryffindor Chasers dropped the Quaffle long enough to get Alicia safely to the ground, reentering the game as quickly as possible. But Cho knew, as everyone surely did, that unless Ravenclaw lost one of their own Chasers or Harry caught the Snitch, the match was over.

Therein lay the key – to prevent Harry from finding the tiny golden ball. He was as dismayed by the loss of a player as the rest of his teammates were, and had put on a new burst of speed, clearly determined to save Gryffindor from defeat. Cho leaned forward on her own broomstick, urging it to go faster. She had to find that Snitch before he did!

Ravenclaw's lead steadily increased. Thirty points. Forty points. Fifty points. Cho merely glanced at Harry as Angelina pulled up beside him to harangue him. Sixty points. Seventy points. Harry was at the opposite end of the field from Cho, searching as desperately as she was. Lee's reverberating voice only served to increase their anxiety.

"And Davies is charging up the field, there's nothing but Ron Weasley between him and the goalposts, come on, Ron –"

The crowd groaned, and Cho knew that Ron had missed.

"Ravenclaw's lead increases to eighty points!" said Lee, sounding disheartened.

_There!_ Right in the middle of the field was a flash of gold. Cho did not stop to ascertain that it really was the Snitch and not a trick of the light. She flattened herself against her Comet Two-Sixty and took off as fast as she could go.

"JUMPING JEHOSEPHAT, THE SEEKERS HAVE SEEN THE SNITCH!"

Cho didn't need to be told that Harry had caught sight of the prize, too. She could see his blurry form on the other side of the fluttering golden ball growing larger and larger, tearing directly toward her. She had no idea which one of them had started moving first. One of her hands gripped the handle of her broomstick, ready to pull herself out of the way to keep from colliding with Harry. She stretched out her other arm, her fingers straining to reach the Snitch first. Cho desperately hoped that her arms were longer than Harry's.

And then, just as she was sure that they were about to hit, Harry suddenly dropped out of the way and darted right beneath Cho. For a brief moment she wondered what had possessed Harry to do such a thing, but then she realized that he must have blinked first in their high-stakes game of chicken.

The roar of the crowd filled Cho's ears, and she suddenly became aware that there was something struggling in her closed fist. She stared down at the two golden wings poking out from between her fingers, still fluttering wildly. In her surprise, she hadn't even felt her hand close upon it.

Elation flooded through Cho, and she thrust her fist into the air in triumph. Yes – _she had caught the Snitch!_ Her teammates swarmed around her, laughing and crying, trying to hug her without falling off their own broomsticks.

It was the proudest moment of Cho's life. She had done it! She had beaten Harry Potter! No one had thought she could do it. Everyone said that Harry was the best Seeker at Hogwarts since Charlie Weasley. Some even said he was unbeatable – but she had won!

The Ravenclaws landed on the field and were promptly mobbed by their classmates. Cho found herself hoisted up on someone's shoulders, and soon she was bobbing around the field above the others' heads, still clutching the Snitch in one fist. Everyone was cheering and celebrating. "RAVENCLAW! RAVENCLAW! RAVENCLAW!"

All thoughts of Harry and his strange behavior had flown right out of Cho's head. She was too caught up in the tidal wave of excitement and exhilaration to think about him anymore. She didn't notice when the Gryffindor team left the field, crowding protectively around their Keeper. She didn't see the angry look that Harry shot in her direction or the incredulous faces of the rest of the Gryffindors.

Cho didn't think about Harry at all as the rest of her House bore her all the way back to the castle.

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It was very late at night, and the party in Ravenclaw Tower was finally winding down. Nearly all of the students had gone to bed, but Cho was still up, languishing in a soft armchair near the warmth of the fire. She had spent a very enjoyable evening laughing and talking with her classmates, drinking contraband butterbeer and eating sweets. She was growing very sleepy, being exhausted from the match and subsequent celebration. If she didn't drag herself up to bed soon, she knew she'd never get there.

As Cho stood up and stretched, she noticed a figure sitting in the far corner of the room. Cho squinted sleepily. It looked like Marty Greer, but she was at a loss to explain the solemn expression on his face. Come to think of it, she hadn't noticed him at the celebration.

"Hey, Marty," Cho said conversationally as she shuffled over to his chair. "Are you going to be heading off to bed soon? It's getting late."

"Yeah," said Marty, who did not look up. He was staring into the fire.

Cho frowned. It wasn't like Marty to be so distant. "Good game today, huh?" she prodded.

"Sure," said Marty, still looking at the flames.

Cho hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Is something wrong?"

At last, Marty's eyes found Cho's face. "You don't know what happened at the end of the match, do you?" he said.

"What?" said Cho. "I caught the Snitch, or hadn't you noticed?" She ventured a smile which Marty did not return.

"Right before you caught it," said Marty.

Cho shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Only Roger and I saw it," he continued in an oddly flat voice. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you didn't notice; you were too busy focusing on the Snitch and all…"

"What are you talking about?" said Cho, beginning to feel irritated.

Marty looked back at the fire. "I knocked Ron Weasley off his broom. With the Bludger that I hit, I mean. I didn't intend to – I thought he'd dodge it – but I guess he was too tired. Or maybe he just wasn't watching. Anyway, it doesn't matter why. Harry caught him."

Cho stared at Marty, feeling like a balloon that was slowly deflating.

"No one else noticed for a few seconds," said Marty. "Everybody was too caught up in the two of you, vying for the Snitch and all. _I_ didn't even notice until Harry was nearly there. If Harry hadn't seen…" He sucked in a breath. "No one else was watching the Keepers. Ron could have hit the ground."

Cho was rooted to the spot. _This_ was why Harry had suddenly swerved to avoid her? To stop his friend from falling? And she had never even looked back at him.

"The other three Houses have to know," said Marty. "Half the people watching probably followed Harry when he abandoned the chase – you know, wondering what he was doing and all. Hardly anyone in our House seems aware of it, though." He sighed. "What everyone must be thinking of us…"

Cho stared straight ahead at an unremarkable spot on the wall, shock and dismay replacing her drowsy contentment. Marty was right. All of Ravenclaw had been celebrating, too overjoyed to notice what had happened to Ron. What _were_ the other Houses thinking of Ravenclaw right now?

What did Harry think?

Tears sprang unbidden to Cho's eyes. She hadn't bested Harry; he'd given up victory to help his friend. Surely he hated her now. He'd never believe that she had only just learned of Ron's fall, not after the way she'd behaved during the match. She remembered the look on his face after he'd fallen prey to her Wronski Feint. In that moment, she'd known that he had understood her. He probably thought that she had deliberately ignored Gryffindor after the match, and that she didn't care that Ron had barely escaped serious injury. If only she'd known! She wouldn't have waved her fist in the air like an idiot, celebrating her victory while in fact Harry had done something much nobler than she had.

"I… I have to go to bed," Cho stammered. Marty did not reply.

Cho numbly made her way up the staircase to her dormitory. Judging by the silence inside, her roommates were already asleep. She put on her pajamas, climbed into bed, and pulled the curtains of her four-poster shut so that she was enveloped in complete darkness.

Cho lay back on her pillow and snugged her blankets up under her chin. She shivered though the air wasn't cold; the coldness seemed to be coming from within herself. She was still tired, but she knew that sleep would not be coming anytime soon. She stared into the smothering darkness, wondering if she had done something irrevocable today.

She wondered if Harry would ever even speak to her again.

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Krysalys73: Yep, you're the only one this time! It's sweet of you to write something every time. I do like men like Ardoc – you know, the big, happy sort of people that see humor in everything.


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